My hand was resting on the smooth swell of her hip where it flared out from her tiny waist, and her head was resting against my chest. I looked down at her, breathing the sweet scent of her body and looking down into the top of the bikini at the cleavage between her small, hard breasts, and she slowly raised her face and looked up at me as my hand tightened on her, feeling her skin. She smiled, then looked out at the rain again as she groped for my other hand. She found it, lifted it and pressed it to her breast, then moved closer to me as I felt her breast. "Jim, you know I said there were some things I wouldn't do-far out things like the head and all, you know," she murmured quietly.
"Yeah, I remember."
"Well, I've changed my mind. I'll do anything you want me to as long as it doesn't hurt too bad. When that guy stuck his cock in Betty's butt this morning, I knew it hurt her because she screamed and cut up like you wouldn't believe. But then he didn't fool around or anything-he just rammed it straight into her. If you're onto that, I wouldn't mind your doing it"
"OK, but it'll probably be a long time before I even get enough of your pussy to satisfy me."
She chuckled, then pulled the top of the bikini down and pressed my hand to her naked breast "Do you like my boobs, too?"
"Yeah, they're nice and hard. I like you all over."
Chapter One
It was one of those bright, clear days when it seems that life will last forever, when it seems that God found the beach so beautiful that it was frozen in timelessness to endure for all eternity in an endless dream of distant laughing voices, sharp scent of salt air, and the rolling thunder of the surf. It was a good surf, with a triple break and a fine wall building below the crown on the shore-break, but it was too heavy for the weekenders, most of whom were idling about at the edge of the swash and watching the three or four determined ones struggling with the massive shore-break and trying to work their way out to a takeoff point. The off-shore wind was causing the swash to build higher than it could run off, a condition which usually caused a rip current, and I looked slowly along the beach from side to side. A hundred yards away there was a line of slightly different color with dots of flotsam spinning along the edges of it, an indication of a rip current which was forming to the side of the small shoulder of the breakers. I glanced at Loeffler and nodded toward it. "Good ride out."
He nodded and opened the rear doors of the van to slide the boards down from the rack. My head was still slightly fuzzy from the night before and I couldn't remember every detail of what had happened, and I slowly looked my board over to make sure that it was all right. There was a dark, distant memory of Loeffler carrying me in from the swash, laughing and puking salt water, and I couldn't even remember bringing my board in.
Almost everyone on the beach turned to look at us as we started toward the water. My board was an eleven-foot spoon nose with a seven-inch skeg, one I had built myself from a solid block of foam and carefully selected hardwood stringers, and Loeffler's board looked like the side of a house, thirteen feet of foam and hardwood to support his two hundred and thirty pounds. The boards and the van identified what we were, but beyond that the sun had burned me to a walnut color and had turned my hair a pale yellow, and there were lines of lighter color in Loeffler's thick, black hair. There were also the crosses, thick, solid pendants of heavy brass which hung on the brass chains around our necks.
The last vestiges of the hangover were swept from my head as the fresh, cool feel of the surf touched me, and I raced toward the water, my board at arm's length over my head. The joy and happiness of the sun, the wind, and the surf were laughing within me, and Loeffler's heavy pounding was just behind me as the heady anticipation made it effortless to run and spring through the swash until it was waist deep around me, white, clean, and cool. The board flashed into the water and I jumped onto it in a. kneeling position, dropping my weight down and back until the first few inches of the spoon were planning. The thrust of the rip current snatched the board and began taking it out with the first stroke, and I could hear Loeffler splashing and digging at the water behind me.
It took only a few minutes for the current to take us beyond the line of the first break, and I turned to the left, looking for a door. On the edges of my vision I could see the people standing on the beach and watching us, and the few who had been fighting the surf before were also on the beaches, leaning against the boards as they looked, probably amazed at their ignorance of rip currents that we had been able to get through the break so effortlessly.
I felt rather than perceived the door, a surging swell in the bosom of the emerald, a burgeoning rise in the body of the current which had started miles away as it raced toward its instant of life on the gleaming beach. The nose of my board slid toward it, paralleling it, then the first beginnings of the slide gave impetus to my board. The skeg dug in, and Loeffler shot by me on my left as I rose to my feet, pushing my hair back. The swell deepened, and through my feet I could feel the trembling, headlong eruption of the tons of water boiling upward, and the thunder of the crest building behind and above me filled my ears. Loeffler was well below me on the slope of the wall, his arms spread and his massive legs in the relaxed, easy stance which always seemed so strange, a gorilla effortlessly, expertly performing a ballet, and I eased the angle of my slide to let the white, curling tip of the crest work closer to me.
Then it was in full stride, the headlong rush toward the beach with the wind tearing at me, several feet of the board planning out of the water as it vibrated from the collapsing of the crest into boiling foam, and the magic feeling of rapture gripped me, making me edge the board even closer to the white until it was strumming from end to end, teetering on the bare edge of disaster. The angle of the breaker toward the beach deepened, and Loeffler leaned over until his body was almost parallel to the water as he made his turn, and I dug the skeg in deeper, moving my feet for the changeover. I crossed the wall just as the crest peaked, and it hung over me, blotting out the sun for an instant as I went through the tunnel under the curling peak. The foam boiled up to my knees as the peak fell just behind me, and the swell rose again into the shore-break. Loeffler made his second turn below and ahead of me, and I held the slide of my board in a shallow slide until the swell began to crest, dropping over the edge of the wall in its curl, then I let it dip, swooping down the wall in a curving turn with two thirds of its length planning out of the water and a white trail of wake behind it. Loeffler saw me coming and tightened his curve as I shot past him, and the momentum carried me across the swash toward the beach.
They were standing around and watching us as we walked out of the swash, carrying our boards, and there were several good looking heads among them. One was a dazzling blonde in a bikini, slender, long limbed, and a shimmering bronze from sun tan lotion and the sun. She was with a group of men and women who were passing a beach ball, and she turned to look at me as I passed, the beach ball falling at her feet. She ignored it, and her soft, beautiful features broke into a smile as she looked at me. A warm, urgent tugging swelled within me as I looked at her, returning her smile. One of the others shouted at her, and she bent over, picking up the ball and tossing it before she looked at me over her shoulder and smiled again. She was young and beautiful, twenty-five or so, and she had the maddeningly beautiful body of a goddess, with large, thrusting breasts, swelling curved hips below a tiny waist, and sturdy, smoothly shaped thighs. The bikini clung to her buttocks, barely concealing them, and to her flat stomach, outlining the swell at the front of her vulva. Her breasts surged against the tiny top, almost breaking out of it, and her long, blonde hair was piled loosely on top of her head, accentuating her long, slender neck. Desire rose within me, hot and urgent, and her level blue eyes read it in my face, accepting and understanding, neither offering nor rejecting.
The novices were thrashing at the line of breakers at about the point where Loeffler and I had gone out. The rip current had, of course, moved on down the beach, and Loeffler was waiting for me. He turned as I caught up with him, then we walked toward the eddy of sandy color in the green. One of those floundering in the surf was a smartass, and he paddled into the rip current in front of us when he saw which way we were heading out. I bent lower to the board and dug my arms in as I approached him, and the planning nose of my board slid over the edge of the discount sporting goods store special he was using. As soon as it started to bind I dropped my weight forward to tilt his board, then he went over the side in a flurry of legs, arms, and wild-eyed startled expression. An instant later I was by the overturned board and picking up momentum again, and I heard the thud of Loeffler's board slamming it out of his way.
I got another good door and started my slide on the first breaker. The board chattered a little on the riffles, then I picked up enough speed to plane it well out of the water and got well up on the wall out of the riffle. The wind was picking up a little and the breakers seemed somewhat higher, and as I topped up on the shore-break it was bearing me along a full twelve or fourteen feet above the shoreline. It began a deep curl at the top, and I shot the tunnel and turned sharply to ride straight into the swash. I began slowing, then the skeg grounded and I jumped off the board, picking it up.
The blonde dropped the ball as I walked out of the swash, and it rolled toward me. I leaned over and scooped it up, then tossed it to her, walking toward her. She caught it, her gleaming white teeth showing as her full lips opened in a smile. "Hey, thanks."
"Hey yourself-I'd do it any time for openers, and I'd do a hell of a lot more than that to make you smile."
"Hey, Cindy, let's have the ball," one of the others shouted as we stood looking at each other, smiling.
She tossed it, then turned back. "So you're Cindy. I'm Jim. Jim Harrison."
"Hi, Jim."
"Hi yourself-would you like to go for a ride?"
She giggled, shaking her head. "I'm not a surfer-I'd rather watch you."
"Can you swim?"
"Of course I can swim."
"Then you're a surfer if you're on the board with me. Come on."
Her smile widened. "I might make you fall."
"I'm falling standing here, and I've wiped out plenty of times before."
"Are you sure you don't mind?"
"If I minded, I wouldn't have asked you."
"Hey, I'll be back later, gang," she called to the others. "I'm going surfing."
Most of them laughed, easy-going and good-natured, enjoying a day on the beach and whatever it brought in the way of amusement, but a couple of the women looked envious and one of the men looked sour. They were all twenty to twenty-five, possibly students or a group of casual friends who had trooped to the beach together, but the guy who'd looked sour might not be so casual about the blonde. Still, she wasn't wearing a ring or anything, and she had acted at least friendly toward me.
I told her what to do as we walked along the beach toward the rip current, and she walked along at my side with a graceful, long-legged stride, with Loeffler following behind us. The numb-nuts who'd got in front of me in the rip current came down toward the beach, cutting us off. "Say, what in hell were you trying to do to me when you ran your board into mine?" he demanded angrily. "By God, you could've hurt me if I hadn't-"
"I could've hurt you if I wanted to, Jack, but I didn't," I replied, stopping and looking him straight in the eyes. His eyes battled with mine for an instant, then dropped. "Don't ever get in my way again, man, because the next time you do I might not be so careful about where I put my skeg."
"Well, goddamn it, you don't own the ocean, and you can't-"
"No one owns the ocean, like no one owns the air, but when I'm using it, it's mine. Don't get in my water, man, and don't try to breathe my air."
"You goddamned surf bums are all the same," he snarled, his courage rising as his temper flared. "If you're not roaming around stealing people blind, then you're shoving people around on the beaches."
My fingers dug into the rail of my board as I held my temper in check; normally I would have flattened him, but there was the chick at my side to think about and holding my temper now would give me an advantage in her mind if I had trouble with one of the men in her group later. "You've got one chance, Jack. If you turn around and walk away, then I'm going to walk on and forget that smartass crack. If you don't, then I'm going to wipe up this beach with your ass."
He looked at me, his face tense with anger and fright, then he glanced at Loeffler, who was standing a few feet away, his board planted in the sand. He snarled curses to himself as he wheeled and stalked back up the beach.
I took the chick's arm and started walking along the beach again, forgetting the incident. "As I was saying, just stay loose and lean against me. I'll use your weight along with mine in controlling the board, but you've got to be relaxed. If we wipe out, don't let it scare you. I'll keep the board away from you, and I'll bring you in-"
"You were mad, but you controlled yourself, didn't you, Jim?"
I shrugged nonchalantly. "I was mad, but it's no big deal. Besides, he's probably a clerk in a local bank, and if we got into it the police would throw me in jail and turn him loose. I don't like trouble, Cindy-I just like to do my thing and let everyone else do theirs. Until they start walking all over me, anyway."
"He's probably just jealous of you."
"He probably is, but he probably wasn't until he saw you with me."
She smiled up at me, her blue eyes flashing, and she moved closer to me as she pushed a couple of stray strands of hair into the folds on top of her head. I put my arm around her waist, talking about what to do again; she stiffened slightly for an instant when she felt my hand on the curve where her tiny waist swelled out to her hips, then she put her hand on top of mine, leaning a shoulder against the side of my chest. Her skin was warm and velvet smooth under my hand, and I could feel the movement of her hips from side to side as we walked, making it difficult for me to keep my mind on what I was saying.
When we got to the point where the rip current was forming, I turned to Loeffler, who was still walking along behind us. "Kurt, if I wipe out, shoot your board and help Cindy in case I'm in trouble. I'm going to have my hands full in keeping the board away from her for the first couple of seconds if we rollover, and I want to make sure she's OK."
He nodded, and I took her arm, walking into the swash. "He doesn't talk much, does he?" she asked.
"He doesn't talk at all-that's why we're friends. OK, now lie face down on the board."
She stretched out on the board, pillowing her chin on her forearms, and I pushed down on the tail to make the nose plane as I began running through the shallow water, pushing it. I worked my way up the side of the board as the water got deeper, then I leaped onto it and straddled her in a crouching position. The bulge of her smoothly rounded buttocks was between my thighs as I bent down, digging my arms into the water and driving the board forward, and my cock brushed against her. It tingled from the contact, and a warm, glowing feeling spread up through me as it began swelling and stretching, becoming resilient and bulging in my swim suit.
I caught a good door, then came the hard part, getting her to her feet without tipping the board. The nose of the board chattered on the feathering ripples as I put my arms around her and carefully eased her up, and I kept my weight loose, balancing the board in a slow, steady glide to keep maximum control over it. Then she was on her feet and leaning back against me, her soft, warm body against mine and the ends of her hair brushing against my chin. I put my hands on each side of her chest just below her breasts, and she let more of her weight sag against me until my cock and balls were resting on the gentle slope where her buttocks curved up to her slender back.
It was beautiful, and the sun, wind, ocean, and all of creation seemed to be joining in helping me with my quest for her body. I could hear the involuntary squeal of rapture coming from her as we began racing toward the beach, and the wave seemed to swell under the board for me. Loeffler shot the wave on the second breaker and turned sharply, spinning his board in a hotdog, and he came back behind us again as the wall of the shore-break began building. I tightened my arms around her body and lifted her feet off it as I shuffled for the turn, then we were around on the shoulder of the shore-break. She put her arms around behind herself, holding onto me, and I kept the board well up toward the crest of the wave in a shallow slide, waiting until the last minute to shoot it. The curl began forming, and I let the board go, shooting the wave through the tunnel, and she squealed with delight as the tons of water poised over us, blotting out the sun, then began collapsing behind us with a roar. We raced toward the beach with the soup boiling up around our ankles and knees.
I shifted my weight back and dug the skeg into the sand to slow the board as we plowed into the swash, then I picked her up and leaped off the board with her. Loeffler flashed by, leaping off his board and snatching both boards out of the swash.
Cindy was bubbling with excitement and delight as we walked out of the swash, and most of the group she'd been with trotted toward us. They went through the conventional noises with her, most of the women glancing at me and at Loeffler, who was silently standing a few feet away and leaning on his board, and Cindy introduced me to most of them. I made the proper sounds, then when some of them began moving back up the beach to throw the ball again, I touched Cindy's elbow and motioned down the beach toward the rip current. She nodded, smiling happily, and the guy who'd looked sour before had a thunderous expression on his face as we walked away, our arms casually around each other's waists.
"One of those guys looked unhappy as hell. You aren't engaged or anything are you, Cindy?"
She glanced up at me, shaking her head, then looked over her shoulder. "Oh, that's Roger," she said, shaking her head again and smiling up at me. "He's just a friend, Jim, that's all, and I have a lot of friends."
"I hope you have another one now."
"I hope I do, too," she murmured quietly, her fingers on my side tightening slightly.
When we went back out, I could swear that she raised her butt slightly, pressing it against my cock and balls as I crouched over her and paddled the board. It could have been wishful thinking or my imagination, but it was real enough to me that my cock was almost hard and I came within a hair of tipping the board as I raised her to her feet.
It was another good run, somewhat less exciting that the first because the shore-break didn't wall as high, but she seemed to enjoy it just as much. When we came walking out of the swash, the guy who'd been giving me the mean looks walked toward us. "Cindy, we're going to drive on into Cerritas for lunch."
She glanced up at me, then looked at him and shrugged. "Well, go ahead, Roger. I think I'll stay here."
"OK, but we might drive on back home from there-we might not come back here. This is a sort of dead place, anyway."
"I don't think so, Roger-I like it here. Don't worry about me. I'll get home all right."
His face flushed. "How? There's no bus, and-"
"I can drive Cindy home," I said.
He looked at me, flushed and angry, opened his mouth to say something then closed it with a snap, turning, shrugging, and walking away.
"I guess that means you're stuck with me," Cindy said.
"I should be so lucky-come on."
One of the women in the group ran down from the road above the beach, calling to Cindy, and Cindy laughed, shaking her head. "I forgot my bag and things-I'll be back in a minute, Jim."
"I'll go with you and we can put them in my van," I said, dropping my board, and I turned to Loeffler. "We'll be back in a minute, Kurt."
He nodded and dropped his board to the sand by mine, and he sat down, wrapping his arms around his knees as he looked out at the waves. The woman who brought Cindy's things smiled at her and gave me a penetrating glance, then she giggled as she handed the things to Cindy. "Roger's all pissed off, I guess you know."
Cindy shrugged as she took the folded robe, towel, and beach bag. "He doesn't own me, Betty. I'm not ready to be anything more than friends, and I can't help it if he keeps trying to make more of it than that."
The woman glanced at me again, then smiled broadly. "Well, I don't blame you. Do you want me to make them come back for you?"
"No-" Cindy began.
"I'll drive Cindy home," I said.
The woman nodded, turning. "Well, don't do anything I wouldn't."
Cindy shook her head and smiled as we started walking toward the van. "Betty's what's known as a dizzy broad."
"Yeah, she seems sort of kooky. She seems to be a good friend, though."
Cindy nodded. "She is. She's also very attractive. She would have gone with you if you'd given her a come on. You didn't know that, did you? Are you sorry now?"
I looked down at her, not smiling. "No, I'm not sorry, and I'd rather be with you than anyone I've ever known or seen, Cindy."
We put her things in the van, then returned to the surf. After another run or two, I lifted her to my shoulders and she fastened her fingers into my hair and wrapped her legs around me, squealing with delight. We wiped out, and Loeffler was immediately on top of us, holding her up. We were spinning, rolling, a tangle of limbs and bodies for a moment as we struggled with the breaker, getting on top of it, then we were stumbling through the swash, holding each other and laughing as Loeffler gathered up the boards. The wind had kept picking up all the time, and it finally began walling the surf out into a mass of foam, impossible to ride. We tried it again a couple more times and Loeffler followed us out, but the shore-break wiped us out every time as we tried to shoot the soup.
The beach was deserted and the sun was gliding into a bed of dark red and purple when we finally gave up, walking up the sandy hill toward the van. Loeffler put our boards in the rack while I gathered up a few pieces of dried driftwood to build a fire. Cindy got her things from the van and put the terry cloth robe around her shoulders as she spread the towel out by the fire, then she and I sat down, our shoulders touching. There was a quiet, companionable communication between us rather than silence as we sat and looked into the fire.
Loeffler came from the back of the van and put half a dozen foil-wrapped potatoes into the fire, then he motioned toward the road. "Yeah, go ahead," I said, nodding.
"Where's he going?" Cindy asked as he got into the van and started the engine.
"To get something to cook. It'll probably be fish-he likes fish."
"I like fish, too, but I don't see how he's going to get any without being able to talk."
"He can if he wants to-he'll manage."
We stopped talking again, and full darkness fell, the pool of light around the fire the only spot of life on the long stretch of beach. The stars began twinkling brightly between the soft, fleecy clouds moving slowly across the glowing disc of the moon, and the line of the breaking surf was a softly glowing iridescence against the dark water. Cindy suddenly shivered, moving closer to me. "It's getting colder, isn't it?"
I put another couple of pieces of wood on the fire, nodding. "It's your bathing suit-it's wet, and the evaporation makes you cold. If you want to, you could take it off and just wear your robe."
Her large, blue eyes looked up at me for a long moment, then she nodded. I poked at the potatoes with a stick as she fumbled with her bra, then it dropped to the towel and she stood, lifting the robe and putting the tips of her fingers into the waist of her bikini. She slid it down and lifted her feet from it, and I reached for it, jamming a stick into the ground near the fire. She belted the robe around herself and sat down, handing the bathing suit to me, and I draped the two small pieces of fabric over the stick for the fire to dry them. I put my arm around her and she moved closer to me, leaning against me. "What about you?" she murmured. "You must be cold, too."
"I'll be all right-I'm used to it."
"Where did your friend go? When do you think he'll be back?"
"Loeffler? In an hour or so, I suppose. He's choosy as hell, and it takes him forever to pick out what he wants to buy."
She put her hand on my arm, stroking my skin. "You're cold, Jim. Perhaps I'd better warm you up."
I looked down at her, smiling. "How do you propose to do that?"
My smile faded as her blue eyes looked up into mine, then her eyes were suddenly liquid pools which were drawing me into them, immersing me. She slowly got to her knees, fumbling at the belt on her robe, then she opened it and pressed herself to me, holding the robe around me. Her resilient breasts soft-stabbed my chest as the warmth of her body flowed into me, and a raging pang of lust roared through me, a fiery, lusty craving, and I ached to throw her to the ground and spear my cock deep into her body with a single thrust. The hungry ache made me tremble all over as I turned toward her, worming my hands inside the robe. I ran my hands up and down her soft, velvety back, and the breath from her nostrils wafted against the side of my face as she looked up at me. I dug my fingers into her back and pulled her toward me, my lips searching for hers.
She dropped the sides of the robe and it fell open as she put her arms around my neck, opening her mouth wide as our lips met. Her saliva was sweet in my mouth as I slid my tongue between her teeth. She tightened her arms around my neck and turned her head to one side as I pushed my tongue deeper into her mouth, forcing it into her until the tip of it was at the back of her throat. I slid my hands around in front of her and cupped her breasts, squeezing and fondling the smooth, resilient mounds of flesh. Her breath began to come in quick pants, making her chest heave, but I held her to me, still kissing her. She sucked and nibbled at my tongue as I felt her breasts, then I slid my hands back down her body, putting one of them behind her to feel her buttocks as the other one groped between her thighs, my fingers combing through the bun of crisp hair below her flat stomach. She pulled her lips from mine and put her face against my neck, tightening her arms around my neck even more as she lifted her weight from her knees to spread them apart. "Aaaahhhhh, I've been thinking of your doing that," she whispered as I moved my hand deeper between her thighs, feeling her soft vulva. "I've been wondering how it would feel for you to have your hands on me, touching and feeling me ..."
"I've been wanting to do this every minute since I first saw you," I groaned. "I've been wanting to kiss you and feel you."
"Have you?" she breathed, then her breath caught in her throat as I slid one of my fingers through the crack in her vulva, touching her clitoris. "Yes, that's it, baby, right there ... yes, right there ... no, back to-yes, that's it ..." She shuddered as a wave of sensation passed through her, then she began moving her hips back and forth in quick, urgent motions in response to my finger stroking her clitoris. "Not until you beat me off, baby," she panted. "Don't do it until you beat me off ... don't want to get over this way, want to get over with you in me ... makes me feel good, though, really good-"
Her voice choked off as our lips met again, and she opened her mouth wide for my tongue. I slid it all the way in, gorging her mouth, and she tightened her lips around my tongue as she began moving her head back and forth, fucking herself in the mouth with it as she continued thrusting her hips at my finger stroking her clitoris. I slid one hand back up to her breasts to feel them, and her chest was heaving as she gasped for breath. She pulled her mouth from mine with a damp sound, then she slid her hands down my body, pushing them inside my swim suit. A delicious, ecstatic sensation flowed through me as her small hands grasped my cock, pushing my swim suit down and pulling it out, and she cupped my cock between her hands, fondling it.
We clutched each other, pressing our bodies together as I stroked her clitoris and she felt my cock, then she suddenly pulled away from me, knocking my hand away from her pussy with a smothered cry. An instant later she was back in my arms again, pressing herself against me as she wrapped her fingers of one hand around my cock. "... was about to go over," she panted, "was about to break through, baby ... don't want to do it that way ... don't want you to beat me off, baby ... want-I want-I want-I want-"
She pushed herself away from me and bent her head lower, murmuring brokenly, then she took my cock in one hand and began kissing the head of it as she pushed at my chest with her other hand. I slowly let myself fall back to a reclining position on the towel, straightening my legs out, and she pulled at my swim suit, sliding it down my thighs. I lifted one leg and pushed it down to my feet, kicking it off, and she cupped my balls in one hand and wrapped her other hand around my cock as she kissed at the head of it again. The sensation of her lips and hands on my cock and balls made every muscle in my body tense, knotting and jerking so hard that it was almost painful. She put her lips against my cock, turning her head and looking into my eyes. "I felt it against me today, when we were on the board," she whispered. "I felt it touching my butt when you knelt over me, and I thought ... I wished that ... I wished that we could hide behind a wave so you could pull my bathing suit down and push it in my butt ... I wanted it so badly-"
She suddenly broke off, opening her mouth wide, and took the head of my cock into her mouth, rolling her tongue around it and sucking at it. I uttered a hoarse groan as my body arched up off the towel in response to the ecstatic sensation of her hot, damp mouth on my cock, and she cupped my balls firmly in her hand as she grasped the base of my cock in her other hand, moving her head up and down, taking more of my cock into her mouth. She tightened her lips around my cock and pressed it between her tongue and the roof of her mouth as she slowly slid her head down until the head of my cock was pressing against the back of her throat, then she drew her head back up and rolled her tongue around the head of my cock again. I lay back and put my arms behind my head, holding my head up so I could watch her, and the sight of the beautiful, desirable woman sucking my cock made the sensations racing through me much more intense. She bent her head down and lapped at my balls with her tongue, then she sat up and shrugged the robe off her shoulders. I looked at her entrancing body as she bent over again, reaching for my cock and balls, then a glowing haze of delicious enjoyment settled over me as she began rapidly moving her head up and down, sucking at my cock.
An urgent desire raced through me to taste her body in my mouth, and I sat up, putting my hands on her hips and pulling them around. She glanced at me, then continued moving her head up and down on my cock as she wormed around, straddling my body with her legs. I felt her buttocks as I stuck my tongue far out and dragged the tip of it through her vulva, and she shuddered all over from the sensation which raced through her. I raised my head closer to her pussy, opening my mouth wide, then the warm, pungent taste of her body filled my mouth as I covered her pussy with my mouth, sucking it and flicking my tongue back and forth across it. A tense trembling gripped her as I sucked her pussy, and I dragged my fingernails slowly up and down the inside of her soft thighs, making her tremble even harder. I slid one hand up between her buttocks, feeling for her anus, and she pulled her mouth from my cock and straightened up, every muscle in her body tensing as I slid the tip of my finger into her tight asshole.
"Oh, God, baby," she whimpered in a shaking voice, letting her head fall again and mouthing at my balls, "oooohhhhh, that's so good, baby, so good ... good ... so good ..." Her voice trailed off in another wordless whimper as she spread her legs further apart and let her back sag, fondling my thighs with feathery touches of her fingers and kissing my cock and balls. "Fuck my pussy with your other hand, darling ... stick your finger in my pussy and-aaaaggggghhhhh, that's it, darling, that's it, baby ... harder ... more ... push more of your finger ... that's right, baby, now harder ... your other finger, harder ... all the way into my butt, baby ... aaagggghhhh ..."
I slid my fingers in and out of her, one in her tight asshole and the other in her pussy, looking up at her beautiful body crouching over me, and she wriggled her hips from side to side as the sensations gripped her. Then she gave a small cry, straightening up and putting her hands back to grasp my wrists. "... want you on me, darling ... want you on top of me ..."
I let my fingers drop out of her, and she turned, lying down on her back and spreading her legs wide apart. Her face was flushed and tense with arousal and her breath was coming in quick pants as she took her feet in her hands, holding her pussy wide open for me, and I crouched on my knees between her thighs, guiding my cock into her pussy. The tip of it slid between the open lips of her channel, and I shoved my hips forward, punching the head of my cock into her. Her eyes closed and her mouth opened as she moaned, turning her head to one side, and her face twisted with the sensation of my entering her as I began working more of my cock into her. Her pussy was tight and hot, and the ecstatic sensation of my cock being enveloped in it made my body tremble all over as I put my hands on her thighs, undulating my hips and easing my cock into her. She took it eagerly, holding her legs wide apart and keeping herself completely open for me, and she slowly opened her eyes and turned her face toward me when I was sliding half of it in and out of her. "I knew it would be like this, darling," she murmured, her voice shaking from my thrusting into her, "I knew it would be so wonderful ..."
"It's good between us, honey," I croaked, leaning further over her and cupping her breasts in my hands, feeling them as I continued fucking her. "We're naturals together, and it couldn't be anything but good between us."
"...is good," she murmured, closing her eyes again,"... so good, so very good, feeling you on top of me and going into me ..." She suddenly opened her eyes again, tensing and reaching for me. "Wait a minute, darling. Stop for a minute and listen to me." I stopped fucking her and looked down at her. "Please do something for me, darling," she said in a begging voice. "I'm going to get over in just a minute, and I want you to come when I do. Please come in me when I get over, darling, and it'll make it a lot better for me. Just shove all of it on in me and don't try to keep yourself from coming, because I'm going to come in a minute. OK?"
I nodded. "OK, honey, OK."
She bit her lower lip between her teeth as she put her hands behind her knees, pulling her thighs against her body and spreading her pussy wide open. "There it is, baby, it's all yours. Just fuck me as hard as you can and come as quickly as you can, darling ...just as quickly as you can ..."
I put my hands on her thighs, poised over her, then I lowered my weight onto her, driving my cock into her until my balls were pressed against her and the hair around the base of my cock was mingling with the clutch of hair around her pussy. She closed her eyes again, moaning, and the sensations in my body began rocketing toward a peak as all of my cock slid into her hot, eager body.
She put her arms around my neck as I lay forward on her, working my hips and sliding my cock in and out of her. I pulled my hips back until only the head of it was remaining in her, then I pushed forward until it was deeply imbedded in her body again. She put her heels behind my thighs and thrust back at me, pushing her pussy up toward my cock as it slid into her, and I began fucking her with a rapidly increasing rhythm. The numb, drugged sensation of complete and total absorption in the primitive, throbbing rhythm gripped me, and I speared my cock into her, my control completely relaxed and the knot of semen rapidly building up within me. She responded strongly, and I could feel a sheen of sweat breaking out between us as our bodies surged together. A more urgent impetus began to enter her movements, and I began fucking her as rapidly as I could as she twisted her hips from side to side, urging me on with gasping whispers. The semen grew larger within me, swelling and ballooning into a massive, unbearable pressure, and she exploded into a flurry of motion, breaking into a climax with an anguished wail. I began driving my cock into her with a wild, uncoordinated rhythm, and every muscle in my body became tense and strained to the breaking point as the come bulged within me, teetering on the verge of breaking loose.
"... come in me, darling," she gasped, "... let me have it, baby, turn it loose in me ... oooohhhhh, God, let me have it, darling, let me have it ... fill me with it-AAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Her voice broke off into a wailing scream as the come erupted from me in hot, thick, spurts, gushing from my throbbing cock as I drove it deep into her body, and I uttered a hoarse yell, driving my cock as rapidly and as hard as I could as the semen flowed from me into her pussy. The ecstatic sensations soared to dizzying heights as the wracking climax gripped me, draining my semen and strength into her, then I fell forward on top of her, going limp.
Chapter Two
Cindy knelt by the fire, putting the heavily buttered, foil-wrapped fillets of sole on the bed of hot coals. Her face was still shining from the scrubbing she had given it when we had waded into the surf to bathe, and her robe was tightly belted around her waist. Loeffler was digging the potatoes from the coals with a stick, and he picked one up, tossing it in his hand to keep it from burning him as he peeled the foil from it. He squeezed it between his finger and thumb, then pushed his bottom lip out, frowning; it was too soft.
I took a drink of beer and shrugged as he glanced at me. "They'll be all right. I wasn't going to check them every ten minutes, and you knew that when you left."
Cindy glanced at me then at Loeffler as he got to his feet and walked toward the van, then she slowly smiled. "How do you know what he means when he doesn't say anything?"
"I can read his mind. A drunk ten-year-old who's retarded could read a mind like his."
She smiled again, turning the fish over with a couple of sticks, and Loeffler came back to the fire, carrying another six pack of beer and the makings for the salad. Cindy had apparently become accustomed to Loeffler's expression when his face was in repose, a black, scowling frown, because it didn't appear to bother her as she walked around the fire to help him make the salad. He tore the lettuce up with his large, thick fingers as she cut the tomatoes and chopped up the green pepper, then he sat back and opened himself a beer as she began mixing it.
We ate, and it was pleasant in the ruddy glow of the fire with the gleaming stars overhead, the fresh, salty breeze fanning our hair, and the quiet mutter of the surf below us. The fish was just right, done through, but not pulpy, and it made up for the burned skin and too-soft center of the potatoes. When we were through, Cindy piled the paper plates on the fire and Loeffler got to his feet, yawning and stretching as he walked toward the van.
"He's going to sleep now," I said as she glanced toward him. "That's all he thinks about-surfing, sleeping, and eating. He doesn't even seem to get too excited about women. Just sort of limited in his interests."
"How long have you known him?" I broke up a couple of sticks and put them on the fire as the paper plates began to burn down. "A little over a year now. I met him in the terminal at Travis when I got back from Vietnam. He'd just come back and we were both discharged at the same time."
"How did you find out that he was a surfer? Did he talk more than?"
"No, and I didn't know that he was a surfer until we'd been together a couple of weeks. When I first saw him there were three or four guys badgering him, and I watched it until I got sick of it. I went over and asked him why in hell he was putting up with it-he was twice the size of the biggest guy there-and he just sort of exploded, began knocking them around, picking them up and throwing them down on the floor-you wouldn't believe it. I figured out later that he'd been waiting for someone to tell him whether or not he should ..."
"And you got together after that?" she asked when the silence stretched out for a moment as I thought about what had happened, remembering.
"A couple of the guys were hurt, hurt bad, and we left together. He'd had a buddy in Vietnam who'd told him what to do, and I guess I sort of took his place."
She folded her legs and sat down by the fire, sighing and pushing her hair back from her face, then she looked up at the stars. "It's beautiful here, Jim, and this has been a beautiful experience for me-one I'll never forget."
"Don't start writing it off yet, Cindy-it's not over. We'll go down to San Onofre, and in a couple of days you'll be riding the nala ha'i lala by yourself-"
"No, Jim," she said, shaking her head and smiling sorrowfully. "You probably don't know it, but tomorrow's Monday and I have to go back to work."
"Well, hell, just check it out and come along-"
"I wish I could, Jim, but I can't. I have responsibilities to myself and to others. I'm a market analyst-you probably don't know what that is, and I'm not being snotty because a lot of people don't, but it's hard for a woman to work herself into that position, particularly at my age. I'll go back to work tomorrow and the next day, and eventually I'll probably meet some guy about like Roger ... we'll be married, have a house in the suburbs and a couple of kids ... when I'm about forty or so I'll probably go back to work again because the kids will be old enough by then ... but I'll never forget tonight, Jim, I'll remember this night and I'll remember you for the rest of my life."
"You're just building walls of bullshit around yourself, Cindy. You could do whatever you want to."
"That's right, but I'm thinking of the long-term want, Jim, not just today and tomorrow." She sighed, standing up. "Do you want to take another dip in the surf?"
I nodded, standing, and followed her down to the beach.
Her body was white and beautiful as she dropped the robe to the sand and raced toward the water, and I pushed my swim suit off again, following her. Her mouth met mine eagerly as I gathered her in my arms, and I held her and kissed her while the lapping waves surged around us, rocking us on our feet as they boiled up around our chests. She took her lips from mine, smiling up at me and pushing my hair back away from my face, then she turned back toward the beach, tugging at my hand. She walked to her robe, and instead of picking it up she knelt on it, putting her hands behind my buttocks and pulling me closer to her.
She took my cock in her mouth, cupping my balls in her hands and squeezing them, and my cock rapidly swelled to a full, trembling erection. I held her beautiful face in my hands as I undulated my hips, fucking her in her mouth, and she passively knelt in front of me, waiting for my come to spurt into her mouth. I held it back, keeping it in check until it was an agonizing swelling within me, then I stepped back from her and took my cock from her mouth. She reached for it again, looking up at me with the saliva streaming from the corners of her mouth and dampening her chin, and I bent down, lifting her to her feet, then forcing her down on her hands and knees on the robe. She nodded and smiled in understanding as she crouched for me, spreading her thighs wide apart, and I positioned myself behind her, feeling for her pussy with my cock and fingers. She reached back with one hand to help me get it in, then the head of my cock slid into her and she put her head down on her forearms as she let her back sag in a deep arc, holding her pussy up for me. I worked my cock into her, then I fucked her with long, slow strokes until my control was teetering on the edge of collapsing again. It slowly subsided as I stood behind her, feeling her buttocks and thighs as I looked down at her, then I began fucking her again. My cock had aroused her again, and she whimpered as she twisted her hips from side to side, moaning with passion. I could hold it no longer, and I exploded into her again as she slid over the edge of sensation into another climax, and we collapsed on the sand, our bodies writhing in heavenly ecstasy.
Dawn was a grey light in the east when I stopped the van in front of her apartment building, and her kiss was a warm dampness on my lips as she trotted into her apartment, her white legs flashing in the darkness, her robe, towel, and beach bag across her shoulder. I started the engine and drove back to the freeway, then I took another exit when I spotted an all night drive-in. The chick who came to the van was interested and willing, but she was young, underdeveloped, and too eager for the black melancholy which had settled over me. Loeffler stirred in the rear of the van, then clambered over the back of the passenger seat, yawning and stretching and scratching his head as he looked around. I handed the untouched cup of coffee to him and motioned toward the wheel as I wormed between the seats to get into the back. He sat in the driver's seat for a few minutes, sipping the coffee, then he started the engine and put the van in gear. I was still staring open-eyed at the boards in the rack when he parked above another stretch of beach a hundred miles away.
The mood lasted for a couple of days, then the sight of other beautiful bodies in bikinis gradually brought me out of it. We began to run short on money and drove to San Jose where I bargained with the clerk in a collector's shop over a box of shells and old bottles we'd picked up. The bottles turned out to be worth considerably more than I'd anticipated, and I mulled it over in my mind as we drove toward Malibu; we frequently passed through sites of ghost towns when we went inland on our way between the beaches, and we'd probably driven past a fortune. There were also other things of value for the taking and other ways to get at them, and it occupied my mind for the next few days as we worked our way along the coast from Malibu to Solona.
At Solona I ran into a guy who didn't know the courtesies of the beach and didn't want to learn, a tourist from out of state, and I hurt him, badly. There weren't very many people around when it happened, except the ones with him, and Loeffler took care of most of them while I filled in around the edges. It was a mess and one which would attract the police, so we made straight for Salina, arriving there just before dawn after driving all night. We found a good place on the beach for the van and put out an awning, and I sacked out.
It was late afternoon when I woke, and my board was out of the rack, face down on the sand so the sun wouldn't melt the wax. Loeffler's was gone, and after watching the surf for a moment I saw him coming in on the face of a low, crestless wave. There was no wind and the surf didn't appear very challenging, but I was hot and felt like waking up. Loeffler saw me coming down from the van with my board under my arm, and he waited for me. We ran a couple of sets, then went back up to the van.
He got the stove out of the van and set it up, then took a couple of the plastic cans to get some water. A few minutes later he came back and started some coffee perking, and three or four kids belonging to out of state tourists came over to the van to stare at us open-mouthed while we sipped the coffee. Their parents came for them, looking at us fearfully, and they seemed to be pleasantly surprised that we could talk and understand what was said as well as humans could. They were about twenty-five or thirty, a man and a woman, and they had one of their parents, an old woman, with them. Their caution and fright evaporated to the point where they sat on the sand and chatted with us for a while as the children ran around playing and shouting. They were curious rather than interested in surfing and they wanted recommendations on places of interest to visit in the area. While we were talking they appeared to have the idea that we were totally penniless and had no use for money, evidentially thinking that we drank sea water and pissed gasoline for the van. Their attitude took a more concrete form when the man gave us three packs of cigarettes and the woman went to their station wagon and brought back a large salami, a small cheese, a couple of loaves of bread, and a jar of pickled Polish sausages. We took the things, thanking them, and the man went after the children. The woman gave me a meaningful look as she told me where they intended to spend the night, and I followed up just to be polite to her even though I wasn't interested; she was a bit pudgy, and her pale, sallow skin sort of turned me off.
After they left I drank another cup of coffee as Loeffler prowled through the van for something for breakfast. There was an assortment of cans and boxes of food, along with the things the tourists had given us, but my stomach felt sort of fucked up and salami or Polish sausage seemed a little too heavy for breakfast. Loeffler offered to scan around for something, but I felt like getting away from the van for a while myself.
I put on my dungarees, shirt, and sandals, and walked back up the dirt road leading down to the beach. We were well north and west of the city, in an area of old, rundown warehouses and other industrial buildings scattered among small truck farms. A couple of chicks in a convertible stopped as I walked along the two lane tarmac highway, and we rapped for a while. They invited me to a party, scribbling the address on a piece of paper, then drove on in a roar of exhaust and flurry of waves when I refused the offer of a ride.
The next house was a small frame structure, an old farmhouse which had been added onto through the years in a ramshackle pattern. It needed painting, the outbuildings around it were old and sagging, the fields were overgrown with weeds, and the old ton and a half truck parked in front of it looked as though it was shot. But there was a chicken pen behind it, and chickens laid eggs regardless of how the rest of the farm was doing.
The boards of the old porch sagged and squeaked under my weight as I stepped upon it, and there was a stir of movement in the house when I knocked on the door. A moment passed, then it squeaked open and an old woman in a worn, ragged print dress looked up at me. "Do you have any eggs for sale?"
She looked up at me, blinking, and I identified the lump in her lower lip and the stain at the corners of her mouth as snuff; she was dipping snuff, something I hadn't seen for years. She dragged the door wider and motioned me in with what seemed to be a natural, almost inborn courtesy toward a visitor. "Hev a cheer, and I'll go git paw."
She closed the door behind me and went into another room, apparently the kitchen, and I heard the murmur of several feminine voices in a thick, almost unintelligible Appalachian dialect as I looked around. The inside of the house was as dilapidated as the outside, and the furniture was an assortment of odds and ends of broken, repaired chairs and tables. The place looked as though it had been empty for a while and transients had torn it up quite a bit, because several of the window panes had been recently replaced while others were covered with cardboard.
A man of about fifty-five or sixty came in, wiping the sweat from his face with a red handkerchief; he was white haired, dressed in overalls and heavy shoes, more a farmer type of the mountains than the coast. "Kin I hep ye?"
"I wanted to know if you have any eggs for sale."
He chuckled and smiled. "Don't know. If the v chickens don't do any better than anything else around here I don't, but they might have accidentally laid a couple of eggs. Come on and we'll see."
I followed him through the kitchen to the back door. The old woman and a younger woman were cleaning an ancient, battered kitchen store, and my interest stirred as I looked at the younger woman. She hadn't been taking care of herself and had on absolutely no makeup, but there was a natural, unassuming earthly beauty about her. Her long brown hair was tied at the back of her head with a scrap of cloth, the sack-like print dress hung loosely on her, but she was slender, had an attractive face, and the hint of curves under the loose dress indicated a well developed body. She was about twenty-five or thirty, and her smooth, velvety skin was tanned by the sun, with brown highlights on her forehead and cheeks. We went through the loose, squeaky screen door into the back yard, and there was a younger woman hanging clothes up to dry on an improvised clothesline. She was much younger, possibly eighteen or so, and there was a distinct familial resemblance between her and the other women in the house. But she was a knockout, with a face like a goddess and a young, slender, not completely developed figure under the faded print dress. She glanced at me, smiling timidly, and I saw that she was watching me from the corners of her eyes as we walked toward the chicken pens.
"... moved out here from Tennessee," the old man was saying, "and if'n I knowed what I was coming to I'd have stayed where I was. It was bad, but not as bad as this."
"Didn't you see the place before you bought it?"
"Didn't buy it-left to me by my brother. He never was much of a hand around his place, but I didn't know he was as bad as this. On top of all this, I ruined the engine in my truck getting out here."
"My friend and I can take a look at it, if you like. We were both mechanics in the Army."
He glanced up at me, shrugging. "Don't know how I'd pay you even if'n you could fix her. Don't have any money."
"Well, maybe we can work something out. We don't have anything to eat."
He chuckled wryly and shook his head again. "I don't neither. If'n there's any eggs out here I should be keeping them to eat, but we need money so bad-" He tugged at the door of the chicken pen, and the hens squawked, racing around inside. "Well, let's see if there's any in here." He leaned over, edging along under the low ceiling of the small, wire-covered building as he stuck his hands in the nests, looking more and more sorrowful as he shook his head. He came back out of the pen, shaking his head in disgust as he kicked the door shut and dusted his hands. "Nary an egg," he sighed. "Well, I guess we don't have anything to sell or eat. I sure wish I'd known how this was going to be."
"Well, it's sort of hard to root up from one place and move to another. Maybe you should've come to look it over yourself before you brought your whole family here."
He nodded glumly, then shrugged. "Water over the dam. Hell of it is, I've got four mouths to feed that I shouldn't be stuck with. Alma there," he nodded toward the young woman hanging up the clothes, "and Billy Jean you saw in the kitchen are my brother's. Billy Jean was married and she has two kids of her own, then her husband died and left her and her kids for me to feed. Seems like my whole family is dying off and leaving their problems for me to deal with. Me and my wife have worked hard all of our life and we should be able to set and rest now, but all of a sudden we've got four more to deal with and to feed."
Two children ran through the back door, squealing and laughing, and he shook his head again. "Them's Billy Jean's kids, and she'll never get a man to look at her with a family before he even starts."
"She doesn't look like she's had two children."
"She's held up well," he agreed, nodding, "but that don't change the fact that she's got them." He sighed gustily again. "Don't know what I'm going to do."
I watched the younger woman, Alma, as she finished hanging the clothes. She picked up the clothes basket and spoke sharply to the children, then walked toward the house with the basket under her arm. Her hips moved with an unaffected, tantalizing motion under the dress as she walked. "Well, maybe my friend and I could help you."
"Why would you do that?"
"We don't have anything else to do-anything else that we have to do, anyway. We just sort of go from beach to beach to surf, and it wouldn't hurt us to stick around here and help you for a while."
"Hadn't you better ask your friend about it?"
"He'll do what I say. I'll go get him and we'll start by taking a look at that truck."
"Well, I'll not say no because I can use all the help I can get. I'll go in and tell my woman to set an extra couple of plates for dinner-I don't know that we'll have anything much to eat, but you're more than welcome to share what we do have."
"OK, I'll be back in a little while."
Loeffler was waxing the boards, and he silently got to his feet and nodded when I told him what we were going to do. I took the awning at the rear of the van down as he put the boards away and gathered up our other things, then we climbed into the van.
The children came out of the back door and looked at us open-mouthed as we drove the van along the narrow, overgrown tracks at the side of the house and stopped behind the old truck. I switched off the engine and pushed my door open, and the back door rattled again as Billy Jean came out. She spoke to the children, nodding toward the house, then she looked at me and let the door slam closed behind her as she walked toward me, smiling. "Hello. My name's Billy Jean."
"Hi, Billy Jean. I'm Jim and this is Kurt."
She smiled at Loeffler, who nodded to her as he walked toward the front of the truck, then she looked at me again. "Uncle Bob said you and your friend might be staying with us for a while."
"Yeah, we'll stick around and help out for a while."
"Well, that's sure nice of you and your friend."
"It's your fault. Anyone would want to help you in any way they could."
She laughed, then smiled, the cool, level smile of an adult toward a noisy child. "You don't have to sweet talk me, Jim. If it's Alma you're interested in, then you won't have any trouble-she's been doing nothing but talking about you since you left, and she's been wetting her panties waiting for you to get back."
"Don't knock yourself, Billy Jean. Alma's nice, but so are you. I'll stick by what I said."
Her smile disappeared, then slowly returned as she looked at me thoughtfully. "But then you're not the marrying kind, are you?"
I shook my head. "No, I'm not the marrying kind."
She nodded slightly, pushing at her hair and dropping her eyes from mine, and she turned to go back into the house. "Well, you'll probably like it here, Jim," she said in a quiet voice.
I watched her, feeling a warm glow in the pit of my stomach from the graceful swing of her hips under the loose dress, then I turned as Loeffler plucked at my sleeve. He had a couple of the spark plugs from the truck, and I looked at them; the electrodes and insulators were thickly coated with carbon and unburned gasoline, an indication of bad rings and valves. I followed him back to the front of the truck and looked at the engine, nodding. It was old, rusty, and battered looking, probably the original engine, and the only options were to either completely rebuild it or replace it.
Loeffler got the rest of the tools from the van and began taking the hood off, and I began taking out the bolts holding the radiator in. The sun began setting, and I became painfully aware that I hadn't eaten as pangs of hunger began shooting through my stomach. The old man came out of the house and talked with us for a moment, shaking his head sorrowfully when I told him about the engine, then he went back in and began working in one of the rooms. A few minutes later Alma and Billy Jean came out to get the clothes from the line. Alma gave me a shy glance and a timid smile, Billy Jean flashed me her calm, friendly smile, and they murmured to each other and occasionally glanced at us as they took the clothes off the line. They took the clothes into the house, then Billy Jean came back out and went to the chicken pen. I turned to look when a panic-stricken squawking began coming from the pen; Billy Jean was wringing a chicken's neck, holding it by the head as she slung its body around. Its neck separated, and she tossed the head to one side as she watched its body floundering around in its death throes and waited for it to stop.
I twisted the bottom hose off the radiator, and a gush of water and antifreeze burst from it. When it died away to a trickle, I twisted the top hose off and Loeffler helped me ease the radiator out of its slots and put it on the ground by the hood. I sat on the bumper and began taking the bolts out of the fan and water pump as he crawled under the truck and began pulling the transmission. Billy Jean passed the truck, holding the chicken by its feet at arm's length so the blood dripping from its neck wouldn't get on her dress. Her blue eyes met mine, and her wide, full lips parted slightly in a smile again as she walked toward the house.
Mouth-watering smells of food cooking began to come from the kitchen as darkness fell. The old man brought a drop light from the house and hung it over the hood of the truck with a pole, and he helped us finish taking the accessories off the engine. He sighed and moaned about the engine, wondering how he was going to get another one. "Maybe I could swap the deep freeze for one. Do you think a wrecking yard would take it?"
"You've got a freezer?"
"Yeah, there's one out in the barn. It don't look much, but it runs good. Guess it was too heavy for someone to want to steal it."
"You should save it-you'll need it to store food in."
"I ain't going to have any food to store if I don't get this truck running, boy. I need a tractor to plow with, too-God, everything I can think of is something I need, 'cause I don't seem to have anything."
"We can check the wrecking yards in Salinas and see what they want for an engine. Maybe they'll let you work it out."
"I won't be able to work it out until I have it, 'cause I won't be able to get back and forth without my truck."
"Well, shit, Bob, let's see how it works out when we go see about it. Don't be so goddamned pessimistic."
"And don't crack your big words on me, boy. If'n you had my problems, you'd know more about how it feels. Mouths to feed, no food, and no money-it ain't much of a good position to be in."
"Well, pissing and moaning about it isn't going to help. Besides, there's all different ways of solving problems. For instance, I didn't know you had a freezer. There's stock farms and feeding pens around, and a beef in that freezer would solve most of your food problems for a long time to come."
"Solve them all right if I wound up in jail or shot. Solve them for me, anyway, 'cause I'd either be dead or I'd have so many other things to worry about that I wouldn't even think of feeding my family."
"You won't get involved. Loeffler and I can take care of it."
"I don't know, boy," he said, shaking his head doubtfully. "That's bad business, and where I come from there's no better way to get shot-"
He broke off as Billy Jean came to the back door, calling for us to come in to eat. I was hungry, but when I looked at her figure silhouetted against the light in the kitchen, with the glow streaming through her thin dress and outlining her legs and thighs, my hunger became of secondary importance to the sudden surge of desire which raced through me, making my cock stir as a tingling sensation moved up and down my back.
The kitchen was insufferably hot from the wood-burning stove, and they had put the table in the living room with the motley assortment of battered chairs around it. We crowded into the tiny bathroom and washed most of the grease and mud from our hands, then went back into the living room. Loeffler was seated at the end of the table, opposite the old man, and I was at the corner of the table, next to Billy Jean. Her children were on the other side of her, and Alma and the old woman were across the table from them. We sat down and waited while the old man prayed, a long, rambling prayer of thanks, then we began eating. There was a minimum of conversation as the food was passed around, and everyone devoted themselves to eating hungrily, more of an indication than anything the old man had said that they had been living on very little food.
When we finished eating, the old man began talking about making us a place to sleep in one of the bedrooms, but I told him that we would put up our awning in the back yard. Loeffler and I went back out and slung the awning between a couple of poles, then we carried our boards, stove, water cans, and boxes and bags of supplies out of the van to put them under the awning. Supper apparently signaled the end of the day for those in the house, because there were signs they were preparing to go to bed as we took everything out of the van and moved the drop light from the old truck to the awning. When we were through, I tossed a couple of lengths of rope into the van, and we climbed in.
I stopped at a gasoline station by the freeway entrance to fill the tanks, and I studied a state map on the wall inside the brightly lighted station office, thinking. There were feeding pens and stock farms all over California, giving a wide choice, and while I wanted an area sufficiently far away to keep from casting suspicion on the old man and his family, I didn't want to drive all night. I finally decided on the Stockton area, one I knew fairly well and one which had enough transients in the immediate area to indicate that it might have been a local job.
It was just after ten o'clock when the van was purring smoothly along a two lane tarmac road a couple of miles from Stockton. There were fences on each side of the road, enclosing crop fields and pastures where cattle were grazing, and we occasionally passed a smaller road which branched off at right angles. A sign loomed up out of the darkness, pointing to the right for the city dump, and I wheeled the truck onto the road, slowing and rolling down my window. The lights of the houses faded into the distance as we went up a slight grade, then the pavement turned into hard packed gravel as we topped the grade and started down into the dumping area.
The gravel road branched, one side of the fork leading on down into the pits and mounds in the dump and the other one skirting the edge of the dump in a wide circle. I stopped the van and turned the engine and lights off, listening for a moment, then I started the engine again and took the left side of the fork, going around the edge of the dump. A couple of hundred feet from the dump, the road ran along the edge of a wire fence enclosing an adjacent pasture. I switched off the engine and let the van coast to a stop by the fence.
Loeffler pulled one of the posts out of the ground and twisted the wires until they broke, then we walked down the slight grade toward a hollow, where we could see the dark forms of several cattle, standing and lying on the ground. We slowed down as we approached them, working our way toward them in a circle. They became restless and a couple of those lying down stood up, looking at us, but they didn't break and run. They were beef stock, most of them not full grown, but heavy, stocky, and fat. I picked one out on the edge of the herd and slipped the rope around his head, and he made a low, mooing sound as I tugged at the rope. His feet were firmly braced as he stood, stubbornly refusing to move, then Loeffler picked up the end of the rope. He braced his feet, wrapping the rope around his wrists, and he put his weight into it. The animal stumbled forward, almost falling, then began following the pressure on the rope.
The rest of them followed us up the grade, and they milled through the break in the fence and out into the dump area as we urged the small steer through the rear doors in the van, lifting and shoving him. We finally had him in, and I threw rocks at a couple more to move them out of the way so I could turn the van around. They lumbered away, and I climbed in the van, starting the engine. The van felt heavy and cumbersome with all the weight in the rear, and the steer stumbled a couple of times and almost fell as I jerked the van back and forth, turning it around on the road.
We stopped at a small all-night supermarket on the edge of the city and Loeffler went in to see about the freezer paper. The steer moved restlessly around in the rear of the van, rocking the body on its springs, and I watched a patrol car as it cruised slowly along the street adjacent to the supermarket parking lot. An icy finger of fear raised goose pimples on the back of my neck as it slowed down, then it accelerated, going on. A moment later, Loeffler came back through the doors of the supermarket, carrying a couple of large bags, and I started the engine. A few minutes later I breathed a long sigh of relief as I accelerated up the on ramp onto the freeway.
Chapter Three
We parked the van behind the truck again and got out. The house was completely dark and silent; apparently they were all in bed. We opened the rear doors of the van and tugged at the rope around the steer's neck; it braced its feet, refusing to move until Loeffler put his weight against the rope, then it jumped to the ground, stumbling and climbing to its feet again.
There was a flash of lighter color and a movement against the darkness of the house as we led the steer around the side of the truck, and I stopped, looking; it was Billy Jean. "Jim?"
"Yeah. Is everyone else in bed?"
"Yes, but I couldn't-what do you have there?"
"A steer."
Her shoulder brushed against me as she looked at the steer, reaching out to touch it, then she looked up at me, nodding. "Take it on out to the barn. I'll be there in a minute."
We stumbled through the weeds, pulling the steer after us, and I peered at the door latch in the darkness, tugging at it. I finally figured it out and pulled the door open, and Loeffler put his shoulder against the rope and dragged the steer on into the barn. There was a glimmer of light from the house, then it resolved itself into a kerosene lantern, swinging back and forth, coming toward the barn. She was carrying it at arm's length, and it made black, twisting shadows in the thick weeds as she walked toward the barn. "Close the door," she murmured as she passed me, going into the barn.
I dragged the door closed again as she went in and hung the lantern on a peg, then she began laying out several knives, a hatchet, and a large hammer on a bench by the wall. She turned away from the bench, hefting the hammer in her hand and glancing up at the rafters overhead, then she looked at the steer. "Grab him by his ears and hold him still."
She looked small and slim, but there was nothing helpless looking about her as she walked toward the steer, looking at it. The hammer was large and heavy, with a six or seven pound head, but she hefted it expertly, sliding her small hand along the handle until she had it balanced, then she put her hand on the steer's nose, the tip of her small pink tongue touching her lower lip. The hammer suddenly swung through the air, her slender body twisting as she put all of her strength behind it, and it slammed into the front of the steer's head with a solid, cracking noise. Loeffler and I lost our grip as the steer's head became a dead weight on us, and it crumpled to the ground, blood gushing from its nose. She dropped the hammer and walked toward the bench where the knives lay. "Tie that rope to one of his hind feet and throw it up over a rafter."
We knotted the rope around one of the steer's rear feet and tossed the end of it across a rafter, and the rafter sagged and squeaked under the weight as we tugged at it, pulling the steer up off the floor. We pulled as hard as we could, but the front of the steer's body still lay on the dusty straw on the floor. She shook her head, walking back toward the steer with a knife. "You won't be able to get him all the way up-he weighs a thousand, maybe twelve hundred pounds. There's a block and tackle on the bed of Uncle Bob's truck you can use, or you can drive your truck around here and pull the rope with it."
I nodded toward a beam at the side of the barn. "Let's tie it there, and you can go get the block and tackle," I said to Loeffler.
He grunted with effort as we pulled the rope as tight as we could, wrapping and tying it around the beam, and he fingered the rope burns on his palms as he went toward the barn door.
She knelt by the steer's head with a long, heavy butcher knife, and the position pulled her dress tight around her, outlining the smooth swell of her buttocks and the curve where her tiny waist flared out to her hips. It was like a religious ritual as she knelt by the animal's head, bending low and looking for the right spot to cut, holding the long, heavy knife expertly in her small hand. She made a slice, and the blood welled out of the cut as she searched in it with her fingers, feeling for the large veins and arteries as the blood gushed up around her wrist. There was an absolute lack of squeamishness in her expression and attitude as she felt through the gash, then she bent lower, inserting the point of the long knife into the cut. She put her weight on it, and a gush of blood burst from the animal's throat, and spreading up her arms and splattering on her face. She stood up and walked back toward the bench, shaking the blood from the knife and her arms as she turned her face to one side and wiped her face on the shoulder of her dress. Her face was still neutral, the expression of a sacrificial priestess concerned only with the deeper meaning involved in what she did.
Loeffler came back with the block and tackle and climbed on the rafter to anchor it, then we pulled the steer up until its head was several inches from the floor. The thick, pungent smell of blood and flesh filled the barn as she stood on a rough stool and began skinning the animal, and I got another knife from the bench to help her, starting on the other rear leg and working down toward the animal's body. I was slow and clumsy, pulling at the skin and tugging it from the flesh, but she cut the skin away with quick, sure strokes, peeling it neatly from the flesh.
She sent Loeffler to dig a pit to bury the entrails, telling him to cut the surface sod in chunks so it could be replaced. The moon had risen, casting a pale, grey light over everything, and I could hear him driving the spade into the ground behind the barn as we finished skinning the steer. I went to the faucet behind the house to get the wash tub as she finished cutting the head off the animal, then she slit the front of it open, letting the entrails slide into the tub.
She looked tired, and although I'd slept most of the day the tension and strain of the night had taken a lot out of me. By the time she'd washed the liver and heart and put them in the freezer to cool, it was apparent that she'd had it. Loeffler dragged the tub of entrails behind the barn and buried them, then he washed out the tub, replaced it, and went into the awning to rack out for the night. When I went back to the barn she had extinguished the lantern and opened both doors in the ends of the barn to let the pale, ghostly carcass of the steer cool enough to cut up, and she was sitting outside the barn, leaning back against the door.
Her eyes flicked open and she looked up at me with a tired smile as I sat down by her. "Billy Jean, you're all in. Go on to bed, and we'll finish this off tomorrow before it gets hot enough for the meat to spoil."
She yawned and shook her head. "No, there's a lot of preacher in Uncle Bob, and I'll feel a lot better about it when that steer's cut up and in the freezer. He'd see my kids go hungry as long as his conscience doesn't bother him."
"He knows about it-I mentioned it to him before we left."
She raised her eyebrows and shrugged. "He must be more worried about things than I thought. Still, I don't want to take a chance on him changing his mind. It'll be cool enough to cut a little before daybreak, and by the time he's up it'll be done-we'll be having steak for breakfast." She yawned, then rubbed at the dried blood on her hands. "I'd make us some coffee, but we don't have any in the house-we ran out a couple of weeks ago."
"We have some. I'll get the stove and pot and bring them over here."
"Well, I'll wash some of the blood off and make some, then."
Loeffler stirred sleepily as I went under the awning, then he rolled over and went back to sleep as I carried the stove, coffeepot, and coffee out. Billy Jean took the pot from me and went to the faucet at the rear of the house, and I took the stove and coffee over to the barn, set the stove up, then pumped it up and lit it. The water was still damp on her face and arms from washing away the blood as she knelt by the stove, putting the coffee in the percolator basket, then she put the lid back on the coffee and folded her legs under her, sighing and yawning again. "It'll be good to have a cup of coffee-it seems like it's been years since I had any."
"What happened to your husband, Billy Jean?"
"He got killed," she sighed, looking away. "... a woman, fight over a woman who wasn't worth the powder and lead it would take to put her right in the middle of hell where she belonged ... silly, senseless, and stupid, the kind of thing that men get into ... the kind of thing that men get killed over ..."
"It was senseless and stupid to get into a fight over another woman when he had you at home."
She sighed again, this time impatiently. "Look, Jim, I told you that you didn't have to sweet talk me. Maybe you've done it so much that you can't talk to a woman without breaking into it, but all it does is make me mad. I don't need for you to try to tell me what I am, what I look like, or anything else. I've got a mirror and I know that I'm pretty to look at, but I also know that I've got two kids and a man would think a long time before he'd get serious about me-there's too many who are just as nice and who don't have two kids."
"All right, goddamn it, all right. You have a way of talking to me like a kid that sure pisses me off, Billy Jean."
"Stop acting like one, then."
"I'll whip your goddamned ass in a minute."
She chuckled, leaning forward and shaking the coffeepot as it began to perk. "That wouldn't mean that you're not a kid-it would just mean that you're not a little kid. I'll go get some cups. Watch it and don't let it boil over."
My anger faded as she stood and walked into the darkness toward the house, a slim shadow of light in the darkness. She was right; I had been acting like a kid, my reactions geared to what had proven to be successful with women in the past. She was more down to earth than other women I'd known, a frank, straightforward person who didn't build up any walls of bullshit between herself and whatever she saw. To her, life took place on a different plane and the basic, fundamental things were all which had meaning for her. She would never suffer an identity crisis or worry herself into a state of panic about fulfillment; she was worried only about her children having food to eat and a comfortable place to sleep.
She came back from the house with a couple of cups and a thin, worn blanket under her arm. "The dew will begin to form before long, and it'll be cold," she said, spreading the blanket beside the wall of the barn, and I moved to sit on it as she poured cups of the coffee. She knelt on the edge of the blanket, giving me a cup of coffee, then she folded her legs under her and sat by me, sipping the coffee and sighing with pleasure. "My, that's good. Seems like it's been forever since I've had any coffee."
"Were you happy with your husband?"
She nodded. "He was a good man. Oh, he'd chase around a little every now and then, but he always brought his money home and took care of his family first."
"A lot of women would divorce a man for chasing around a little every now and then."
"Yes, but that's because they're all inside themselves. Men are going to do that because it's their nature, and all a woman can do is make him hide what he's doing."
"You're smarter than a lot of women, Billy Jean."
"No, I've just got my eyes open. A ten-year-old girl could see that if she'd open her eyes. Anyone who can't see it just don't want it to."
I put my arm around her, cupping her slender shoulder in my palm. "You're something else, Billy Jean, you really are," I chuckled. "I'll bet you get along with men a lot better than you do with women."
"I don't get along with anyone too well, because I speak my mind too much." She drained her coffee cup and leaned forward, putting it on the edge of the blanket, then she sat back and looked up at me. "Do you want to do it to me now?"
My mouth dropped open. "What?"
"Don't you want to, then? I thought the way you were looking at me before ... well, you put your arm around me, I thought ... don't you want to?"
"Hell, yes," I said, desire for her slender body rising within me, and I dropped the cup on the side of the blanket as I turned toward her, reaching for her with my other arm.
"Wait a minute-don't be in such a hurry," she giggled, twisting out of my arms, then she stood up, moving away from me and gathering the hem of her dress up in her hands. She pulled it up, taking it off over her head, and the blanched white light of the moon gleamed on her soft, silky skin. She was completely naked under the dress, and her figure was everything I had expected and more. Her breasts thrust out from her slender chest in twin mounds of firm, resilient flesh, tipped by large, protruding nipples, and her hips swelled out from her tiny waist then curved down to her sturdy, well proportioned thighs. She shook her hair free of her dress and turned, dropping it to the ground, and my breath began to come in quick pants as I looked at the smooth bulges of her buttocks and the gentle curve in her slender back. She sat down on the blanket, curling her legs and sliding into a reclining position, looking at me, and my fingers were thick and clumsy as I stumbled to my feet, pulling at my clothes.
She smiled up at me as I lay down by her, naked, and she put her arms around my neck as I bent over her, searching for her lips with mine. Her hands moved over my shoulders with gentle caresses as our lips met, and her mouth was warm, damp, and clinging under mine. I kissed her, feeling her lips tugging and pulling at mine, and I cupped one of her breasts in my hand as I pulled her closer. Her breast was warm and resilient in my hand, so firm that it thrust almost straight out from her body, and my desire for her began to rapidly escalate to an uncontrollable lust as I felt her breast and touched her lips with the tip of my tongue. She opened her lips, touching the tip of my tongue with hers, then our tongues entwined and embraced between our open lips as one of her small hands moved down my body, feeling for my cock. My breath came in gasps as I stiffened my tongue and thrust it into her mouth, and a wave of fiery sensation shot through me as her hand found my cock. I jerked all over as she grasped it, wrapping her fingers around it, and I groaned deep in my throat as she began moving her hand back and forth, massaging it. I moved my hand down her body to her pussy, and she spread her thighs wide apart to let me feel it as my cock swelled to a hard, throbbing erection from her caresses.
I ran the tip of my finger back and forth in the crack of her vulva as I took my lips from hers and bent my head lower, searching for one of her breasts. She cupped one of them and held it up to my mouth, and a deep, groaning sigh came from her throat as the tip of my tongue touched her nipple. I trailed the tip of my tongue around her nipple, then I took it into my mouth and began sucking it as I flicked the tip of my tongue back and forth across it. I longed with every fiber of my body to spring on top of her and sink my cock deep into her slender body with a single thrust, but I controlled myself as I titillated her, sucking her breast and stroking the tip of my finger back and forth through the crack in her vulva, and she began twisting from side to side on the blanket as she put her arm around my head. "You don't have to do anything for me, darling-I'm ready now, if you want to put it in. I want it in me now, darling, if you want to put it in me now."
I moved my mouth to her other breast and began sucking it as I raised myself from the blanket to get between her legs, and she wriggled toward me, eagerly opening her legs as she continued to massage my cock. I settled between her legs, and she kept wriggling at me, tugging at my cock and trying to get it into her pussy. Her face was tense and flushed with arousal as I pushed myself up, getting to my knees, and she kept impatiently wriggling her hips from side to side, pulling my cock at her pussy. I crouched on my knees between her thighs, looking down at her slender, beautiful body, and I put more pressure on my finger as I moved it through the crack in her vulva. I felt the opening of her pussy, and her body jerked as I eased the tip of my finger into it. "Are you ready for it, honey? Are you ready for me to put my cock in there?"
"I've been ready," she gasped. "Why do you think I was naked under my dress? I was coming out to you when ... come on, darling, put it in me ..."
I pressed more of my finger into her pussy and eased it back and forth, fucking her with it, looking down at her and savoring the sweet anticipation of taking her. "Does that feel good, honey?"
"Yes, but ... it's not as good as ... put your pecker in me, Jim, go ahead and put it in me now ... I want you to put it in me and fuck me with it as hard as you can ... put your pecker in me and fuck me with it, Jim ..."
I raised her thighs and put them across mine as I looked down at her small pussy in the bright moonlight, spreading her vulva apart with one hand as I guided my cock with the other. The warmth and dampness of her pussy were against the tip of my cock, and I moved my hips forward. The sensation of the head of my cock sliding into her hot, tight pussy made every muscle in my body tense, and she uttered a long, low cry from deep in her chest.
"Oooooohhhhhhhh, not too fast, darling ... big, so very big in me ... been a long time since ... don't go too fast, darling ... please ... please go slow and don't hurt me, darling ... it's so big ..."
"I won't, honey, I won't hurt you," I gasped, my voice hoarse with lust as I took my throbbing cock in my hand, moving it around in her pussy with a slow, circular motion. Her breasts bobbed up and down from her rapid panting as she threw her arms apart and lay passively in front of me with her eyes closed, then she began to relax as I worked my cock around in her pussy. It began to moisten and loosen slightly, and I eased a bit more of it into her, still moving my cock around. The sensation began to overcome the tension which had suddenly gripped her from my cock penetrating the focus of her body after having gone so long without sex, and her hips began moving, twisting from side to side and driving her pussy up at me with cautious, tentative thrusts.
Even as she relaxed, her pussy was unbelievably tight, almost virginal, and it was several moments before I had enough of my cock into her to begin fucking her. I finally had about four inches of it in, and I began moving my hips slowly back and forth, easing it in and out of her. Her thighs were still spread across mine, her pussy wide open in front of me, and I touched her clitoris with the tip of my finger as I slid my cock back into her. She lurched up at me with a small, muffled squeal at the touch of my finger against her clitoris, then her hips began pushing up at me as her slender body undulated on the blanket in front of me. I poised myself over her and pointed my cock straight into her pussy as I dragged the tip of my finger over her clitoris in a slow, steady rhythm, and her hips picked up the rhythm, undulating with the same pace. Her breathing became louder and more uncontrolled, and her breasts bounced as she thrust herself up at me, the waves of motion beginning at her shoulders and travelling down through her flat stomach to her hips, and my cock began sinking further into her pussy as she eagerly fucked herself with it. Her clitoris was a tiny, hard nub under my finger, and when my cock was gliding into her up the thick part of the shaft, I leaned over her, taking one of her breasts into my mouth.
She shuddered and moaned softly, thrusting her pussy up at me even harder as I took her breast into my mouth, pressing it with my tongue and sucking at it. The warm, rich scent of her young, beautiful body filled my nostrils, and a delicate perfume which seemed to be one with the cool night air, and the trace of the heavy odor of blood which still seemed to hang about her made her even more desirable, stimulating and titillating my lust for her. I could scarcely contain myself as I kept an iron control over my hunger for her and waited for my cock to get all the way into her, waiting for her to become fully aroused. Her fingernails were digging into the blanket, and the ripples of motion passing through her body were becoming wild and uncontrolled as she responded to the stimulation of my mouth on her breast, my finger on her clitoris, and my cock in her pussy. She edged closer to me, putting her heels against me to brace herself, and my cock began sliding almost all the way into her.
"Aaaaahhhhhh, it's too much," she moaned, falling limply back on the blanket and panting breathlessly. "It's so good, darling, but ...it's almost too good, almost can't stand it ..."
I put my hands on her thighs behind her knees, lifting them and spreading them wide apart. "I'll do it now, honey," I grated hoarsely, moving my hips back and forth, sliding my cock in and out of her. "It's all in now, and I'm going to fuck you with it."
"Aaaahhhh, yes," she sighed, her voice trembling from my hard thrusts into her. "Fuck me with it, darling ... fuck me as hard as you can ... just fuck me and fuck me until we're both so ... until we can't stand it ... so good, so big and long inside me ... feels so good-"
I looked down at her slender body, at her breasts moving resiliently back and forth from my thrusts and at the thick, hard shaft of my cock sinking into her, and the sight made the sensation of fucking her much more intense. The semen began knotting up within me, swelling and ballooning, and I ground my teeth together as I controlled it, holding it back so I could fuck her for as long as I wanted. She began moving again, moaning and whimpering as she surged up at me, driving her pussy up to meet my cock as it speared into her. My control began to slip from the sight of her slender body writhing in front of me, and the semen built up into a massive pressure within me as I trembled all over from the effort of keeping it back. I was on the point of stopping my movements so I could regain control over my climax, when she suddenly launched into a climax. "Aaagggghhhh ... it's going to ... I'm going to ... I'm coming ... I'm coming ... I'm ... AAAGGGGHHHHHH!"
She twisted her hips from side to side as the convulsive spasms of her orgasm gripped her, and I numbly jammed my cock into her pussy to drive her on through it, the pressure of my swelling semen within me so massive that it felt as though it was tearing me apart. A tiny spurt of semen escaped, then it burst loose in a gush and I collapsed on top of her, seizing her buttocks in my hands and digging my fingers into them as I pumped my come into her. She felt the hot, thick fluid bathing her insides, and she uttered another low wail as she lurched under me, her movements becoming wild and uncoordinated. Silent thunder echoed through my head as my sensations soared up to the dizzying heights of ecstasy, and I gripped her numbly as I kept driving my cock into her, the come spurting from me. The shattering climax wrung me, robbing me of strength as my come drained into her, and I lay limply on top of her, panting and coughing weakly.
She slipped from under me, and I lay on my back with the night air chilly against my naked skin as the sweat began drying on my body. I heard the faucet at the rear of the house running, and a moment later she returned and sat beside me on the blanket, sponging my cock and balls with a damp cloth. She gave my cock a final gentle touch with the cloth, patted it with her finger, then leaned over and kissed me. "Tired now, darling?"
"Dead, not tired," I groaned, opening my eyes and looking up at her. She had her dress on again, and her hair was pulled back from her face in a pony tail, so tight that her cheeks and forehead looked shiny in the bleached, white light of the moon. "You're really good, Billy Jean, you're the best."
She giggled and patted the side of my face. "Well, I'm no expert, but you're plenty good enough for me. You made something happen to me that's never happened before. You'd better put your clothes on before you catch a cold, Jim. Would you like some more coffee?"
I yawned and nodded, sitting up. "Yeah, let me have some more coffee. Maybe it'll put some life back into me."
I pulled my sweatshirt and dungarees back on as she filled the cups with coffee again. "It's not too hot," she murmured, "but it'll be all right if we just drink it down." She shook the pot and nodded. "There's still some more in it. Light the stove, and I'll heat it up."
I fumbled the matches out of my pocket and pumped the pressure handle a couple of times, then opened the valve and lit it. It popped as it lit, then the flame became brighter as I pumped the pressure handle a couple more times. She put the pot on the flames as I sat back, digging a pack of cigarettes from my pocket, and she silently shook her head when I offered them to her. I lit a cigarette and sipped the coffee, feeling the strength flowing back into me as the strong, dark fluid trickled down my throat, and she sat on the edge of the blanket by me, the yellow light from the stove playing on her small, smooth, young-looking face as she sipped the coffee. She looked thoughtful and serious, almost pensive as the yellow glow from the stove highlighted her cheeks and forehead. The pot began singing, and she leaned forward, picking it up. Her eyes met mine as she refilled my cup, then she looked away, pouring a few drops into her cup. "No regrets are there, Billy Jean?"
She shook her head quickly. "No, not the kind you're talking about, anyway. It's just that ... well, it would be easy to like you too much, Jim. I mean, I was going to ... let you because then you'd stay and help us, maybe, but now ... now you're a person to me and not just someone to help us. Does that make you mad?"
I shook my head. "No, I'm not mad. Maybe I'm even glad about it. Do you think that beef is about ready to cut yet?"
She glanced up at the moon and stars, then sipped her coffee and nodded. "We could start. It should have eight or ten hours to cool before it's cut, but it would spoil before then."
"Make another pot of coffee, then and I'll wake Loeffler."
She took the pot back to the faucet and refilled it with water as I woke Loeffler, and when I came back to the barn she was lighting the lantern again and hanging it on a peg near the carcass. Loeffler came in the barn a moment later, yawning and scratching his head, and we held the carcass steady as she stood on a stool and put a knife blade on the backbone, then began driving it lengthwise through the backbone with the hatchet. When the carcass was neatly divided into two half's, Loeffler and I tied ropes around the front feet and dragged them up toward the rafters, and she made a single cut through the ribs of each half, dividing the carcass into quarters. We dragged the bench over under the quarters and cleaned it off, then she cut the quarters into roasts and steaks as Loeffler and I packaged them in the freezer paper.
A little over two hours after we began the bulk of the steer was stored in the freezer and Loeffler was burying the scraps of meat behind the barn as Billy Jean and I cleaned up in the barn. "We sure did waste a lot of meat by not having a grinder," she murmured, shaking her head as she gathered up the knives. "But I guess we have more than we had this time last night and it's hard to beat the price."
I laughed, nodding. "That freezer's about full of meat-it should last for a good while."
She nodded. "I'll go put these knives and things back in the house-I'll be back in a minute."
She went through the door, and a moment later Loeffler came back in, carrying the spade. "Help me move this bench back over, then you can go back to bed, Kurt."
We put the bench back against the wall, then I put the light in the lantern out and went back out to the stove, shaking the pot. It was still about half full; I pumped up the pressure cylinder and lit it, then put the pot back on the flames. A moment later Billy Jean came back out of the darkness and sat on the edge of the blanket by me, smiling up at me. "Happy, honey?"
She nodded, leaning against me, yawning, and I put my arm around her. "Tired?"
She turned her head and looked up at my face, her eyes searching mine. "Not too tired if you want to again. Do you?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I want to again."
She stood, gathering her dress up and taking it off over her head.
Chapter Four
When I woke, the atmosphere around the house was almost festive. There'd been a dull, hopeless melancholy in everyone's face the day before, but now the children were racing through the house, squealing and laughing, the women were all humming or singing as they went about their work, and the old man was whistling as he worked on some tools in the barn. Loeffler was already up and was waxing and cleaning our boards, and all the doors on the van were standing open; apparently he had washed down the interior.
I gathered my toilet articles and put my dungarees on, and Billy Jean smiled at me brightly as I went through the kitchen door toward the bathroom. There was a subtle chemistry working between us as our eyes met across the kitchen, the quiet communication between those who have been lovers and found it to be good, made richer by her understanding and calm acceptance of what I was, what I needed and wanted. "You didn't sleep very long," she said quietly.
"Looks like you didn't sleep at all."
"I'll be all right." Her eyes moved down to the things I was carrying, then back up to mine. "I'll tell Alma to bring you a clean towel."
"Why don't you bring it yourself?"
The sounds of the others moving around inside and outside the house was a quiet background, and I felt desire for her stirring in my loins as I looked at her standing by the hot stove. Perspiration spotted her dress and was shiny on her face, her hair was pulled tightly back from her face and tied behind her head, and her brown calves and bare feet gave an earthly touch to her young beauty. She smiled slightly, shaking her head and walking toward the sink. "We need you here, Jim. For a while at least, we need you and I want you to stay."
"Don't cut yourself down, Billy Jean. If you couldn't keep a man, then he wouldn't be a man-"
"I told you before that I know what I am, Jim, and I also know what I can do. Sure, you'd stay for me, for a while at least, but you'll stay longer for me and Alma both. Go on, and she'll bring you a towel in a few minutes."
"But-"
"Go on."
Her smile was pleasant but insistent. I silently nodded and went through the door to the short hallway. The children were running from one of the bedrooms toward the kitchen, and they stopped in the hallway and looked up at me with open mouths as I went into the bathroom. It was small and cramped, and the fixtures were old and battered. The pipes rattled and pounded when I turned the faucets, and a thin trickle of water splashed into the sink. I brushed my teeth and shaved, and there was a light tap on the door as I was washing the last of the shaving cream from my face.
"Sorry it took so long," Alma said as I opened the door. She stepped into the bathroom and put a couple of towels on top of the tank, her eyes not meeting mine. "The kids got into the washing and scattered it all over the ground, and most of the towels had dirt or grass all over them ... do you want me to run the bathwater for you?"
I picked up one of the towels and wiped my face, nodding. "Yeah, if you would."
She knelt by the tub, turning the faucets. The dress she was wearing was somewhat faded, but it was newer than the one she'd been wearing the day before and it fit her better. It was pulled tight around her thighs and hips as she knelt, and I felt a sharp pang of desire race through me as I looked down at her. There was a distinct familial resemblance between her and Billy Jean, but she was smaller, not as well developed, and obviously younger. She was in her teens, but it appeared that she would be somewhat taller and would probably have Billy Jean's lithe, slender, but beautifully developed figure when she matured. There were also subtle differences in her features which made her face dramatically beautiful; the soft, woman-child line of her cheeks and chin, combined with the large blue eyes and thick, heavy masses of light brown hair were entrancing. She looked up at me as I stood by the sink, drying my face and neck, then her eyes dropped again as she put her hand in the stream of water coming from the tap, testing the temperature. She stood up and bent over the tub, turning the taps back off, and her eyes didn't change when she looked up at me and saw that I'd been looking at her buttocks, outlined by her thin dress. "I got your clothes from your tent to wash, and some of your pants and shirts are almost dry. If you want, I can take those you're wearing and bring you some from the clothesline."
"Yeah, as long as you don't bring me some of Loeffler's-I can't wear his."
Her face broke into a smile, almost taking my breath away. Her face was beautiful in repose, but when she smiled it was dazzling. "I can tell the difference," she giggled. "I don't think there's ten men in the world who could wear his clothes-his shirts are as big as a sheet."
"OK, I guess I could use some clean clothes. These pants can almost walk by themselves."
Her smile faded and her eyes fell from mine as she flushed slightly, clearing her throat. "Well, take them off, then," she murmured.
I tossed the towel onto the tank and unbuttoned the dungarees, sliding them and my shorts down my thighs. Her eyes were fixed on a spot on the wall to one side of me as I stepped out of them and handed them to her, and she took them, still not looking at me. She turned to go back out the door, and I put my hand on her shoulder. She jumped, startled, then she froze. I moved closer to her, putting my arms around her, and I could feel the racing of her small heart as I pulled her to me, burying my face in the thick masses of her hair. She rested her head against my chest, and my cock pressed against her firm buttocks as I moved my lips around the side of her face. Her eyes were closed, and I looked at her beautiful features as I opened my mouth, covering hers. Her lips were warm, soft, and sweet in my mouth and they opened slightly as I touched them with the tip of my tongue. I trailed the tip of my tongue back and forth across her lips, then I pressed harder, sliding my tongue between her teeth. Her breath was warm against the side of my face as I touched the edges of her teeth with my tongue, feeling the warm, damp surface of her tongue with the tip of mine. I slid one hand up her body and cupped one of her small breasts. Her bra was soft and loose, almost formless, and I could feel the hard resilience of her breast through it and her dress, the firmness of young, vibrant flesh. I slid my other hand down her back and cupped one of her buttocks, feeling it, and she swayed against me, leaning against me passively and letting me kiss and feel her.
My cock was beginning to swell, and it was pressing against her buttocks in a long, firm tube when she took her lips from mine. She rested her head back against my chest again, her eyes still closed, and my hands moved up and down her body restlessly, caressing and feeling her. Desire for her young, beautiful body was a raging force within me, and I could hardly move my hands rapidly enough to satisfy my need to feel her. She slid one hand up to the side of my face and patted it in a gentle, understanding caress, then she moved away from me, toward the door.
The door of the bathroom closed softly behind her, and I got in the bathtub. My tentative hardon gradually left my cock as I began lathering, but the gnawing, hungry need for her remained, fanned to fiery life as I thought about how she looked, how she had felt in my arms. A moment later the door opened again and she came back in with a neatly folded stack of clothing. "Do you want me to wash your back?" she murmured, clearing her throat nervously.
"Did Billy Jean tell you to ask that?"
Her face flushed slightly, and there was a light of irritation in her blue eyes as they met mine. "I know as much as Billy Jean-well, she's been married and I guess there's some things she knows and I don't, but ...but I can do anything she can ... I'm as old as she was when she got married."
"OK, I didn't mean to piss you off, Alma."
She shook her head quickly. "You didn't ...ah, make me mad. I'll go do the rest of your clothes, and I'll fix you something to eat when you're through. If I'm not in the kitchen, come out in the yard and get me-all right?"
"OK."
She left again, and I could hear her soft footsteps going back toward the kitchen. There was a murmur of feminine voices as she and Billy Jean talked for a moment, then the screen door slammed as she went back outside. A moment later, the bathroom door squeaked open and Billy Jean stuck her head in. "Everything all right? Do you need anything?"
"Nothing I can get in here."
She smiled, then came in the bathroom and closed the door behind her, leaning against it. "Alma said you didn't want her to wash your back."
"What's the big deal about washing backs? Anyway, I'd just get all steamed up, and I can't do anything in here."
"You couldn't, but she could. She knew what to do."
"What are you talking about?"
She sighed, shaking her head and patiently smiling at me. "Silly. She knew what to do to keep you all right until tonight. I've seen some of the women who drive and walk along that road out there, and I don't want you to just ..." Her voice faded out as she pushed herself away from the door and walked across the room toward me. She knelt by the tub and put her small hand on my arm, reaching for the bar of soap. "Here, give me that."
"Hey, are you talking about beating me off? Shit, that's coming from nowhere as far as I'm concerned, and-"
"If I start doing anything you don't like, then you can tell me and I'll stop. Now stop talking so loud and give me that soap so ..." she took the bar of soap from my hand and dipped it in the water, lathering her hands, "at least I can keep you from getting ... from wanting to leave ... she might be ashamed to make you be still so she can do what has to be done, but I'll chase you all over this damned house if I have to ..."
A thrill of sensation flowed through me as she dropped the bar of soap, taking my cock and balls in her hands, and I involuntarily straightened out in the tub, lifting my body partially out of the water. She expertly massaged my cock and balls, running one hand deep between my legs and dragging it back up to cup and squeeze my balls, and rubbing my cock in a circular motion with her other hand. My cock immediately began swelling and becoming hard as a warm, delicious cloud of sensual enjoyment enveloped me, and she pressed her lips together in determination and concentration as she wrapped her small hand firmly around my cock, stroking it with sure, rapid motions.
The idea of being beat off still didn't appeal to me, but the cloying, ecstatic sensations of her hands on my cock and balls held me spellbound in the warm cloud of enjoyment, and every muscle in my body quivered as I held myself up out of the water, watching her as she stroked her small hand up and down my trembling, swollen cock. I groped for her, and she shifted herself toward me as my hand brushed her thigh. Her hand kept up the firm, rhythmic motion as I slid my hand up her dress, feeling her thigh, and she spread her legs apart as I pulled at her panties, sliding my hand inside them. I combed my fingers through the bun of crisp hair between her thighs, and she spread her legs wider as I slid my fingers between her thighs, feeling her vulva.
"I don't want it like this-I want to come in your pussy."
She stopped stroking my cock, glanced at my face then over her shoulder at the door, then she nodded, splashing hands full of water over my cock and balls to rinse the soap off them. "All right, darling, but you'll have to hurry. Alma and I aren't jealous of each other, but I told her to take care of you and I don't want her to get the idea that I don't think she can ..." She stood, taking one of the towels from the tank and spreading it on the floor, then she lifted her dress and pushed her panties down. I stood up in the tub and stepped out onto the towel as she stepped out of her panties and lifted her dress higher, leaning over the commode and holding onto the tank. "Can you do it like this, Jim? We can't go in one of the bedrooms, so will you like it this way-"
"I'll like it any way as long as I can come in your pussy," I said, feeling her buttocks with one hand and her vulva with the other as I moved closer to her, my throbbing cock brushing against her body.
The sight of the beautiful, slender woman bending over and waiting for my cock made my passion soar to delirious heights. I looked down at her white, smooth buttocks and pushed her dress higher, feeling her slender back and sides, then I fingered the crack in her vulva, bending my knees and guiding my cock toward her pussy. She hissed between her teeth and a quiver raced through her body as my finger slid into her pussy, and she put one hand back to help me guide my cock in. The tip of my cock pressed between the lips of her pussy, and she spread her legs wider, pushing herself back and tugging at my cock. The head of my cock popped into her pussy, and she groaned deep in her throat as she let her back sag, holding her pussy up to me.
I eased a couple of inches of my cock into her, and she put both of her hands on top of the tank to brace herself as I put my hands on her tiny waist and began fucking her. The ecstatic sensation of my cock entering her hot, tight pussy made my legs shake and quiver as I slid my cock in and out of her, gradually working more and more of it into her. It slid smoothly in on the lubrication of the water and her damp pussy, and I ran my hands over her, thighs, buttocks, and back as I slid my cock in and out of her, pulling back until only the head of it remained in her then pushing forward until my balls were pressed against her vulva, pressed against her vulva.
"Hurry, darling," she whispered in a tense voice. "Don't hold it back or anything-just go ahead and come in me."
The feeling of my cock sliding into her and the sight of her alluring body bent over in front of me let the sensations racing through me take me to blissful heights, and I relaxed my control, letting the feelings carry me with them as they careened toward a climax. I cupped her pelvic bones in my hands and began fucking her more rapidly as the sensations began to build up within me, thrusting my cock deep in her body with a hard, driving rhythm. The semen swelled within me, building up to a climax, and she gripped the top of the tank firmly to brace herself as she began wriggling her hips from side to side. The added stimulation of the sight and feel of her twisting her hips put me over, and I felt the stream of come racing out through my cock. The orgasm gripped me in its wild ecstasy, and I dug my fingers into her slender body as I threw my head back, undulating and spearing my cock into her. The come erupted from me in hot, thick spurts, and she whimpered as she felt it flushing out into her. I pounded it deep into her body with spearing thrusts of my cock as I quivered and shook in the throes of the climax, and my movements gradually became slower and more languid as it drained from me. She continued twisting her hips in rhythm to my thrusts, drawing the come from me, and she uttered a long, ragged sigh as I collapsed over her, twitching.
I lay in the tub motionless for a few minutes after she left, then I took a deep breath and sat up, bathing again. The climax had drained the strength from my limbs, and my legs were shaky when I climbed out of the tub to dry off. I dressed and pulled the plug out of the tub, then I tossed the towels into a pile and went into the kitchen, edging around the children as they raced through the hall toward the bedroom again.
There was no one in the kitchen, and I went to the screen door, looking out. Alma was walking toward the house with a basket of clothes under her arm, and Billy Jean was taking more clothes from the line and dropping them into another basket. Alma looked up at me and smiled as I pushed the door open for her. "Ready for some coffee and something to eat?"
"Yeah," I replied, moving back out of her way.
"All righty. Sit down, and I'll fix you something as soon as I put these in the bedroom to fold."
I sat down in one of the battered chairs at the table, and a moment later she came back in from the bedroom and began moving around in the kitchen, putting a plate and silverware in front of me and filling a cup with coffee. Despite the fact that I'd had a climax only moments before, tendrils of desire for her spread through me as I looked at her lithe, slender body. There was a pleased half-smile on her face, an expression of satisfaction from taking care of me, and a mental image of how she would look naked formed in my mind, making a pleasant shiver race up and down my back. Energy began to return to my limbs as I sipped the hot, black coffee and watched her bending over in front of the stove, opening the oven. The thin dress hugged her young body, outlining her buttocks, and a flush spread over her face again as she turned toward me, standing erect again, and saw that I had been devouring her body with my eyes. "The biscuits aren't very good now-they're dried out from the oven. I can make some more, if you like."
"Those'll be fine, Alma."
The old man came into the kitchen as Alma put the plates of biscuits, potatoes, and fried beef on the table in front of me. "Would you like to eat something, Uncle Bob?"
"I'll just drink a cup of coffee, child." He pulled out a chair and sat down, looking at me. "Well, young feller, you've fixed us up with enough for an army to eat-that freezer's busting open with beef. Are you sure there won't be any trouble about it? Billy Jean said you all buried the guts and scraps, but-"
"There shouldn't be-we went far enough to get it. We'd better start thinking about that truck next."
He nodded, taking a handkerchief from his hip pocket and wiping the sweat from his face. "Yes, there's that and a bunch of other things to be taken care of, I guess. When I get straightened out, I'll see what I can do about paying you and the other feller for what you do-"
"Don't worry about that end of it-it's as much trouble to lie around on the beach as it is to do this, and if we were there we'd have to do our own cooking. We'll have to have some money to get an engine for the truck, though. Have you ever worked citrus orchards? They're hiring pickers now, and we'd be able to make a few dollars there."
"Billy Jean and I have," Alma said, putting a cup of coffee in front of the old man. "Daddy took us down to Florida to work in the groves there last year."
The old man glanced up at her and nodded. "Well, I haven't, but I guess I could learn easily enough. I've worked just about everything else at one time or another. How much do they pay?"
"It's piece work-usually a dollar or a dollar and a quarter a box. We could all ride down to one of the orchard areas in the van, and if we pool our money we should have enough to get an engine for the truck in a couple of days. About a week should take care of everything you need to get started if we can get steady work."
"Yes, but what's in it for you and your friend, boy? I can't just take your money that way, and-"
"Hell, don't worry about it, Bob. I told you that I don't mind helping out when someone needs it."
"Well, I'll never be able to pay you back all I'm going to owe you, but I'll do what I can and you can rest assured that you'll always have a home as long as I have a roof over my head, boy."
"OK, so much for that. Now let's figure out what we're going to do. Do you want to leave someone here to look after things while we're gone?"
"My wife can do that," he said, nodding. "She can stay here and keep the kids here so they won't be underfoot all the time-that way we can get more done and have a little peace from them at the same time."
"They're not all that much trouble, Uncle Bob," Alma said quietly.
"You're not my age, girl," he replied, looking at her. "Wait until you have as many grey hairs as I have, and you'll want some peace and quiet yourself. I hope for your sake that you have it, too." He looked back at me. "When do you think we ought to start out, boy?"
"As soon as we can. We can make it down there and get signed up tonight, and we'll be ready to start work in the morning."
"All right. The women can fix us something to take along to eat, and I'll finish up what I started out in the barn." He drained his coffee cup and moved his chair back from the table, standing. "I'll go tell my wife and Billy Jean, and we can start getting ready."
I drank another cup of coffee as I watched Alma putting the leftover food away and washing the dishes I'd used, and her attitude was that of one acutely conscious of being watched. There was a slight flush on her cheeks and she moved slowly when she walked, trying to keep from swinging her hips. Her eyes met mine as I got up from the table and took the coffee cup to the sink, and her face flushed to a deeper color and she smiled slightly as I looked down at her, smiling at her.
Loeffler had apparently heard the old man telling his wife and Billy Jean what we'd planned to do, and he was putting the things back into the van. We put the boards back up into the rack, out of the way, then stacked the cardboard boxes of odds and ends up against the back of the seats. There wasn't too much room left in the back of the van when we got everything back in, and we moved things around until we could get the folded awning and blankets into piles along the sides of the van for the others to sit on. Billy Jean and Alma began bringing out the things they wanted to take along with them, blankets, a few paper bags with clothes and odds and ends in them, and a box of sandwiches made of beef and biscuits. We managed to get everything in, and the old man came out of the house with his coat over his arm, giving his wife final instructions. When we started to get in, Billy Jean asked me if Alma could sit in front with me, telling me that she might become car sick if she sat in the back, and Loeffler silently turned away from the passenger door in the front and got in the back of the van.
The old woman and two children stood at the rear of the old truck, the rank weeds in the overgrown driveway up around their knees, and they silently waved as we drove away. For a few minutes there was a feel of leave-taking in the van, an atmosphere of depression and melancholy. I flipped on the stereo and dug through the tapes for one with the new Nashville sound, then I jammed it in the player and turned on all the speakers. The mood immediately lightened, and Billy Jean and Alma began laughing and joking with each other. The old man looked out the porthole for a while until he became bored, then he stretched out on the awning and went to sleep. Loeffler sat in the corner at the rear with his arms folded and his eyes closed, and Billy Jean and Alma gradually became silent.
The bucket seats were meant for riding rather than for playing, but I did my best. Alma was looking out her window at the farms and fields along the sides of the freeway when I put my hand on her thigh, and she jumped convulsively, turning and looking at me with wide, startled eyes. I looked down into her large blue eyes, squeezing her thigh gently, and she smiled tremulously back up at me before turning her face back to the front to look out the windshield, every muscle in her body taut with tension. She gradually relaxed, then her small hand rested on top of mine, the tips of her fingers feather soft as she stroked my hand. I started to move my hand further up her thigh, and she drew in a deep breath as she slid her hand under mine, grasping it firmly and lifting it. I glanced at her, and her lips were pressed firmly together as she lifted her dress and put my hand on her bare thigh. A thrill of sensation raced through me as I felt the warm, soft skin of her naked thigh against my palm, and she closed her eyes and began stroking the back of my hand again as she sat back in the seat and pulled her dress up so I could feel her. The anticipation of having her made the blood pound in my head as I moved my hand further up her thigh, edging her panties down. She bit her lower lip between her teeth as she pulled her panties down and held them open for my hand, then she moved slightly lower in the seat, parting her thighs. My cock began swelling to a full erection and made the front of my pants bulge as I combed my fingers through the thin, soft hair between her thighs and felt her tender vulva.
Then there was a smart cocksucker of a trucker in the slow lane. The van slowly passed the truck as I kept my eyes on the road and my attention on Alma's pussy under my hand, and he looked down through the window at her side and saw that I had my hand up under her dress. The thunderous blare of the air horn made everyone in the van sit up in surprise, blinking sleepily, and Alma snatched my hand out of her panties, her face crimson. We were past the wise motherfucker with the horn his kids must have got him for Christmas by the time the old man managed to stutter a question. I told him that I had let the van weave too close to the truck and he'd warned me, and everyone gradually relaxed again. But when I put my hand back on Alma's thigh, she picked it up and held it between hers, caressing it and patting it, and that was where my hand remained.
We stopped for gasoline and sat in the parking lot at the side of the station to drink a coke and eat the sandwiches, then I started the engine and drove back onto the freeway. Everyone was asleep by the time I'd been on the freeway another hour, and darkness was falling when the orchards began to line the sides of the freeway.
The day was just ending for the pickers. They were straggling along the dusty roads between the rows of laden trees, turning in the last of their pick to be counted and loading into old pickups and battered sedans to leave for the night. Most of them were Chicanos, many of whom were illegal immigrants drawn from south of the border by the promise of dollars. There were a few Anglos and blacks. A lot of the Anglos were runaway teenagers, and the rest of them and most of the blacks were the more energetic transients from the skid rows of Los Angeles, San Jose, San Francisco, Stockton, and Sacramento.
I drove the van slowly along the road, weaving it from side to side to get around the parked vehicles and clumps of people, and a lot of them-particularly the younger ones-did a double take at the West Coast custom job on the van. The foot traffic was all to and from a squat sheet metal building at the end of the road which had a number of vehicles parked in front of it and several loungers standing around outside it. There was a late model Cadillac among the old pickups and sedans, and I parked the van behind it switched off the engine.
As I walked around the front of the sedan toward the porch at the front of the building, a fat, greasy-looking man standing with a group of other men beside a pickup turned and looked. His eyes moved over the van, looking at the watery sheen of the lacquer and at the wides, mags, and chrome pipes, then he looked at me with an insolent sneer. "Well, if all the goddamned surf bums in California show up, there won't be any work for anyone," he remarked to no one in particular.
I stopped and looked back at him. "If all the big mouthed motherfuckers in California are here, I'll probably be so busy kicking their fat asses that I won't have any time to work."
He stiffened, his face turning red under the two or three day growth of whiskers, and a couple of the men standing near him moved restively. "What's the matter, mouth? Don't have anything to say now? Come on, motherfucker, if you want to take me on. If I'm going to kick your goddamned ass, I'd just as soon do it now as later."
"We're not causing trouble," one of the other men said uncomfortably, and I noticed that most of them were glancing at the rear of the van. I looked; it was Loeffler, looking like a skinned gorilla in pants as he yawned and stretched. "All we want to do is tell everyone that this jobber is paying fifteen cents a box less than the guy over in Cabrillo. If everyone will go over there, then this guy will start paying-"
"If everyone goes over there, then he'll start paying the same thing as this guy does." I looked at the fat man again. "Well, how about it, motherfucker? Want to take me on?"
"No, all you want to do is drive your mouth. You're a cocksucking, motherfucker, cockknocking cowardly son of a bitch who drives his mouth as long as he has an edge. Get out of my fucking way."
The screen door in the front of the building squeaked open, and a man in a deputy sheriffs uniform stepped out on the porch. "What's going on out here?"
He was looking at me, so I shrugged. "Nothing. Just coming in to sign up, if the jobber's hiring."
"Well, he is. Bring your car title in with you." He looked at the group of men by the pickup. "How about you? Do you want a job or not?"
"We want a job, but we want to get paid the same as the jobber pays over in Cabrillo. He's paying-"
"If you want to get paid what they're getting in Cabrillo, then go to Cabrillo. Get out of here."
"We'll leave, but we want everyone to know what kind of deal they're getting. We're going to tell everyone who goes in that-"
"If you're going to do any telling, then you're going back out to the highway to do it. This is private property. Get in your truck and get out of here-now."
I went back to the van and opened the passenger door as they climbed into the pickup truck, and the fat man got in the driver's seat. Alma had been looking and listening, her face pale and her large blue eyes wide with fright, and I patted her thigh reassuringly as I opened the glove compartment to get the title. The fat man in the pickup gave me a resentful glare as he gunned the engine, kicking up rocks with the rear tires and swerving the truck sharply, driving away. The old man and Billy Jean were out of the van, and I held the door open for Alma to get out, looking at Loeffler. "Stay with the van."
He nodded, folding his arms and leaning against the side of the van, and we straggled into the building. It was hot and stuffy inside the building, and the bright glaring light in the center of the ceiling made harsh, black shadows on the walls. The deputy sheriff picked up a clipboard from a shelf and looked at me when I walked in. "Where's the other man? There were three men."
"He's outside watching the van. He'll be in as soon as we get through."
He nodded, satisfied. "Name?"
"Harrison, James."
He turned a couple of pages on the clipboard, running his finger down the list of names, then he nodded. "OK-let's see your car title."
I handed it to him, and he slid it under the edge of the spring loaded clamp at the top of the board, looking at the number on it as he turned to the listing of hot cars. He checked it, then nodded and handed it back to me. "OK." He looked at the old man. "Name?"
"Albright," the old man replied in a subdued, uncertain voice. "Robert Albright."
I went on over to the rickety dining table the jobber was using as a desk and signed my name on his roster. He gave me my box of chits, asking if I wanted to rent a house, and I shook my head as I walked back toward the old man, checking each of the chits to be sure they all had my number on them; occasionally they get mixed up, and someone else might get credit for some of my pick. The deputy sheriff had worked his way to Alma, who looked about fifteen in the glaring light of the bare bulb in the ceiling and who had no identification. I talked to him, pointing out the similarity between .Billy Jean and Alma, and the policeman finally shrugged and checked his list for the name she'd given him; he was jumpy, but he was a reasonable man.
We got back outside and sent Loeffler in, and a few minutes later he came out with his chits. I started the engine in the van and drove back along the dirt road toward the encampment area. All the people were gone, and the only vehicles left along the sides of the road were those which were broken down. The road through the orchards was like a dark tunnel until the encampment area came into sight, then it opened out into the maze of tiny frame houses brilliantly illuminated by arc lights on long poles surrounding the area. There were tents of various sizes, types and colors pitched around the edges of the area, and the dusty paths between the tents and buildings was a beehive of activity as people swarmed around, relaxing from the day's work, preparing dinner, getting drunk, visiting, or just trying to make out.
I drove around to the side nearest the toilets and water faucets, then eased the van in between a couple of tents. The front flaps on one of them was open, and as I got out of the van I could see a man fucking a woman on a pallet while a couple of small children sat playing with a dirty, ragged doll and gravely watched them. The woman was completely naked, but the man had only pulled his trousers down around his knees. He got off at the same instant that I looked, and the woman threw her feet up into the air and splayed her legs wide apart, opening herself completely for his come. He unloaded into her with a hoarse grunting noise, then collapsed on top of her.
They got up as we began dragging the awning out of the van, and the woman began preparing dinner for them while the man sat in front of the tent, offering advice. The man was a Chicano who looked more like a rip-off artist than a picker, and the woman was a slatternly Anglo who looked as though she hadn't bathed in a couple of weeks and who battered the two kids around too much. I ignored them and stopped the old man from talking to the Chicano with a cold stare when a conversation began to develop, and I made sure someone was with the van all the time as we took turns going to the showers. Billy Jean and Alma fixed the last of the sandwiches and some odds and ends we had in the van for a meal, then we sat around for a while, chatting. The encampment rapidly began to settle down around eight-thirty as people began going to bed so they would be rested and ready by dawn, and we got ready for bed, with Billy Jean and Alma going into the van, and the old man, Loeffler, and I bedding down under the awning. The old man fell asleep almost immediately after he stretched out, and Loeffler lay on his side, his face in his usual expression so that it was impossible to tell whether he was awake or asleep. I smoked my last cigarette and stubbed it out on the ground by my blanket, then I stretched out. Through a crack in the flap of the front of the tent next to the van, I could see the man fucking the woman again. This time they both had their clothes off, and he was dog fucking her on the pallet, her pallid body in a kneeling position in front of him as he held her hips and hunched his hairy ass, driving his cock in and out of her.
Chapter Five
The touch on my shoulder woke me instantly. I sat up, almost bumping my head against Billy Jean's as she quickly moved back, putting her finger to her lips for silence. Loeffler raised his head and looked at us, then he silently turned over and put his head back down, pillowing it on his forearm. The old man was snoring loudly under his blanket, and the blanched light of the moon and the brilliant arc of lights bathed the area in white light. There were a few distant, muffled sounds of activity in the encampment; I had first thought it was time to get up, but it was much too early.
"I'll lay here for a while, and you can get in the truck with Alma," Billy Jean breathed, putting her lips close to my ear.
I shook my head. "Alma's just a kid, Billy Jean, and this isn't the right time and place for it with her. When we get back to your uncle's place I'll-"
"She's not a kid. She's a woman, and she's waiting for you because I woke her up and told her I was going to get you to come in to her. I saw some of the women around here while we were driving in, and while you're looking at them tomorrow I want you to know what you'll have waiting for you tomorrow night. It'll be either me or Alma, whichever one you want, or both of us if you're up to it. Now go on in the truck and screw her-she's waiting for you."
It was the maternal instinct, the urgent drive of a mother to provide for the welfare of her children, the same impulse which drove many women to open themselves and feign passion for a man whom they hated in order to keep him in check so their children would live well. She had enjoyed sex with me the night before and during the day in the bathroom, but the fundamental cause had been her children; until their welfare was assured, she was going to use every means at her disposal to keep me with them. It was hardly complimentary, but it was more reasonable and infinitely more gratifying than the attitude of some women who apparently assumed that a man would bear until death the burden for womanhood which had been placed upon him by his mother, that the act of asking would assure instant obedience and lifelong devotion for nothing more than a feminine smile in return.
She nodded in satisfaction as I got up, and she lay down on the blankets as I pushed my feet into my sandals and walked toward the van. The doors were ajar, and I could see Alma's pale face in the illumination of the arc lights as I stepped up into the van. I closed the doors behind myself and edged along one side of the van to the front, where I pulled the curtain across the back of the seats. She sat up, clutching the blanket to her breasts and looking up at me with wide, scared eyes as I snapped on the dome light, then she lay back down, turning her face toward the side of the van. I kicked my sandals off and pushed my dungarees down, stepping out of them, then I pulled the blankets up and slid under them, reaching for her. She involuntarily started to pull away from me as I put my arm around her, then she forced herself to relax and she wriggled toward me as I pulled her to me. The last vestiges of sleep faded from my mind and a heady glow of desire began building up within me as my hand touched her warm, soft skin and I realized that she was naked under the blankets. She kept her face averted from mine as she moved towards me, pressing herself against me until her firm buttocks were making a warm, curved nest for my hardening cock, and I slid one hand up her flat, smooth stomach to cover one of her breasts with it.
She was breathing in a slow, controlled rhythm, but I could feel the mad racing of her small heart with my hand which cupped her firm, jutting breast, feeling it. Her young body was warm and firm against mine, and my cock rapidly expanded to a full erection as I held her to me and buried my face in her hair, kissing the back of her neck and breathing in the warm, delicate scent of her young body. "Are you afraid of me, Alma?"
"A little, I guess ... not exactly afraid, but ...never done it before with a ...with ...with someone as old and big as you ...just boys, and then just a time or two ..."
"We could wait. We could just lie together and kiss this time, and wait until the next time to go all the way."
"Billy Jean would be mad," she said, shaking her head. "She would be mad at me, and-"
"We wouldn't have to tell her."
"She'd know. Somehow she'd find out, then she'd whip my ass. She's afraid you're going to cut out before we get everything we need, and she told me that I'd have to do anything you wanted ... said if she could then I could too ..." She turned her head and looked up into my eyes. "I don't really mind, though, not really. I mean, it was feeling good when you were doing that in the truck today." The tips of her brilliantly white teeth showed between her lips as she giggled. "It was feeling good until that man blew his horn, that is."
"This felt good?" I asked her, sliding one hand down her fiat stomach and combing my fingers through the soft, thin hair between her thighs.
She closed her eyes, turning her face back away from me, and nodded. "Ummmm," she murmured, opening her thighs slightly.
I reached deeper between her thighs, massaging her soft vulva gently between my fingers, then I ran the tip of a finger through the crack in her vulva. Her legs opened wider and her mouth opened in a gasp as the tip of my finger touched her clitoris, and she lifted her hips from the blanket, pushing her pussy up at my hand. I raised myself on one elbow and pushed the blanket away from me as I began stroking her clitoris with my finger and leaned down to trace the tip of my tongue around her nipple. Her nipple was large and protruding, and it stiffened as my tongue touched it, becoming hard and firm. I took it between my lips and began sucking it gently in rhythm with my finger stroking her clitoris, and she began undulating her hips and raising her pussy higher in the air as her breath came in short, quick pants.
The sensation of my tongue on her nipple and my finger on her clitoris began to arouse her, and her face became flushed from the sensations which were racing through her. I opened my mouth wider and took the small, firm mound of her breast into it, sucking it firmly and flicking the tip of my tongue back and forth across it, and I searched for the opening of her pussy with my finger. The tip of my finger slid into her pussy, and I flattened my hand out on her vulva, sliding my finger into her pussy as I stroked her clitoris. Her small hands combed through my hair, pressing my mouth down against her breast as she pressed it up toward me, then she suddenly began tugging and pulling at my hair as she raised her head, her lips searching for mine.
Our lips met, and her mouth was hot, damp, and wide open for my tongue. I slid my tongue all the way into her mouth, touching the back of her throat with the tip, and she closed her mouth on my tongue, sucking and biting it. I began sliding my finger all the way into her pussy, fucking her with it, and she flexed her knees, opening her legs wide as her hips surged up off the blanket. She pushed her tongue back at mine, stabbing it into my mouth, and our tongues entwined between our open lips. I savored the sweet taste of her saliva as our tongues caressed each other. The anticipation of having my cock in her young, beautiful body was a soaring, swelling thrill within me.
I took my mouth from hers and kicked the blankets away from us, looking down at her. Desire for her roared to a ravening hunger within me as I looked down at her white, slender body, lying on the blanket in an attitude of wanton invitation with her knees flexed and her thighs wide apart. She looked up at me with her large, blue eyes, her face flushed and her lips and chin damp with saliva. "Go ahead and do it now, darling. Go ahead and put your pecker in me-I want it in me. I want to feel it inside me."
She closed her eyes again and spread her legs wider as I raised myself and got between her thighs on my knees, crouching over her with the tip of my cock against her vulva. The sight of her beautiful body waiting for me generated an almost overpowering urge to ram my cock deep into her with a single thrust, to seize her and wring her soft, tender flesh with my hands as I drove my cock into her pussy, her asshole, and her mouth, and I trembled all over from the effort of controlling myself as I stifled the impulse to ravage her. I massaged her small vulva and slid my finger in and out of her pussy a few more times, then I spread her vulva apart with one hand as I guided my cock with my other hand, moving my hips forward. The tip of my cock rested between the open lips of her pussy, and I pushed forward, sliding the head of it in.
"Aaaggggghhhhhh, it's so big, darling, it's so ... big and wide ... feels so big in me ... slowly, darling ... put it in slowly, darling-"
I moved my cock around in her pussy to loosen and moisten it, massaging her vulva again and titillating her clitoris with the tip of my finger, and she whimpered softly in her throat as she flexed her knees deeper and spread her thighs further apart. "... now ... more of it now ... put more of it into me now, darling ..."
I began hunching my hips slowly, easing it into her, and I looked down at my thick, swollen cock entering her slender body. She was holding herself wide open, but her pussy was still so tight around my cock that it felt as though it was being skinned. The sensation of my cock entering her hot, tight pussy a fraction of an inch with each thrust was maddening, again rousing an urge to spear it deep into her small body with a savage thrust, and I closed my eyes as I continued rocking my hips with slow, careful motions, gently sliding it into her. I could feel the lips of her tight pussy around the shaft of my cock as it gradually became enveloped in her body, and I looked down at her again when my cock was halfway in her. The wide, veined shaft of my cock looked outsize to her small body with half of it in her, and she was looking up at me, her face flushed and her large blue eyes wide open. "... good, darling? Does it feel good in me?"
"God, yes, it's good," I groaned. "It's so good that I can hardly stand it, honey."
A smile nickered across her face, then she closed her eyes again and opened her mouth, panting softly as she took my cock into herself. I began sliding my cock in and out with firmer strokes, pulling back until only the head of it was in her then pressing forward until it became too tight. Her slender body moved on the blankets in response to my thrust, and she began undulating her hips, pressing her pussy up toward me. Her firm breasts moved with resilient, tantalizing motions, and I leaned over her, cupping them in my hands and feeling them. She put her hands on top of mine and pressed them harder down against her breasts, moaning deep in her throat, and I kneaded them gently in rhythm to my hips moving back and forth. She put her heels against the blanket and braced herself, and my cock began sliding into her up to the wide part of its shaft as she undulated harder, hunching up at me. I dragged my hands back down her body and cupped her buttocks, raising her pussy and thrusting straight into it. My throbbing cock sank all the way into her body, with my balls pressing against her firm, tight ass.
I held her ass up off the blankets and moved my hips back and forth, looking down at her as I fucked her, sliding my cock deep into her body. The ecstatic sensation of fucking her was made much more acute by the sight of her body in front of me, and the mounting pressure within me began taking me higher and higher into the blissful heights of sexual enjoyment. I kept a firm control over my climax so I could continue to enjoy it and could bring her to an orgasm, but the sight of her body and the feel of her unbelievably tight pussy began to erode it. It mounted until the semen was a burgeoning pressure within me, feeling as though it were bursting me apart in its need to escape, and I ground my teeth together in my effort to hold it back as I grimly drove my cock into her. It became too much for me, and I lay forward on top of her, wrapping my arms around her and stopping my movements so I could regain my control. She put her arms around my neck and stroked my hair as she put her heels against the back of my thighs, sighing deep in her chest. "Do you want to do it another way, darling?" she whispered. "Billy Jean said you might want to do it all ways-like you might want me to get down on my hands and knees so you can do it from behind me-"
"It's too good this way," I panted. "It's so good that I can't control myself-I'm about to come."
"Go ahead and come, darling. Go ahead and come in me, if that's what you want to do. I don't mind ..."
"I want to make you feel good, too," I replied, sliding my hand down between us and groping for her clitoris in her vulva. "I want you to like it too, honey, before I come."
She tensed all over and hissed through her teeth as my finger touched her clitoris, "...good ... that's good ... more ... do it some more ... fuck me now and do it at the ... same time ... fuck me and do it at the same time ..."
I pushed myself back up and began sliding my cock in and out of her as I stroked her clitoris with the tip of my finger, and her small hips began bouncing upward, forcing her pussy up at me. She had become completely accustomed to the feel of my cock gorging her small pussy and the discomfort had passed, allowing the sensations of pleasure to penetrate. Her pussy was looser and more moist as I began fucking her again, and my cock glided smoothly in and out of her as I crouched between her thighs, fucking her and titillating her with my finger on her clitoris. She lifted her feet into the air and spread her legs wide apart as her face became tense and strained, flushing to a crimson color, and waves of motion began to travel from her shoulders to her hips, driving her pussy harder at me. Long moments passed as the sensations accumulated and built up within her, driving her gradually higher and higher, and her movement gradually became more uncoordinated. I fucked her harder and more rapidly as I sensed the first quivers of a climax passing through her body, then she abruptly slid over the edge.
"God, god, god," she suddenly hissed frantically, lunging up at me. "... harderer ... fuck me harder ... fuck me harder ... fuck me ... AAA-AGGGGGHHHHHHHH!"
I slammed my cock into her as rapidly as I could, thrusting it all the way into her slender body and pressing my balls against her ass, then the pressure within me was suddenly trying to burst me apart again, making every nerve in my body tingle with sensations of pleasure approaching pain. I gave up and threw myself forward onto her, cupping her buttocks in my hands as I turned the come loose. It burst out into her in a thick flood, and I rammed it deep into her slender body with my spurting cock as the orgasm exploded in my head, wrenching me out of myself. I lived for an instant as long as eternity in the deep blackness of total ecstasy, each fiber of my body vibrating to the heavenly, exhilarating rhythm of life and death, then I plunged back, ribbons of fire streaking through my mind. She was through her climax, and she was whimpering with pain as my cock kept driving into her, driving my sensations too far, and I collapsed on top of her, the last of my come seeping into her alluring body.
My legs were still weak and shaky as I slowly eased myself down from the van, leaving Alma sleeping in the blankets, and I crawled back under the awning, pushing my sandals off and getting out of my dungarees. Billy Jean was asleep, her breathing deep and regular, and she woke with a muffled sound of surprise as I got under the blanket with her. She started to move away, then stopped and put her arms around my head as I wrapped my arms around her, putting my head against her breasts. "Didn't she do it with you?"
I silently nodded my head.
"Didn't she give you enough, then?"
I tightened my arms around her, nodding again. "Yeah. Plenty."
She was silent for a moment, thinking, then she chuckled softly in her throat and began stroking my head. "You just want someone to love you a little, then, don't you? You just need a little loving, don't you, darling?"
"Yeah."
She chuckled again as she lifted the skirt of her dress up around her waist and unbuttoned the top of it, then she put one of my hands on her breast and the other hand on her pussy and wrapped her arms firmly around my head, again stroking my hair. "All right, darling," she whispered softly. "Just feel me and go to sleep ... go to sleep and rest so you can fuck us all you want to ..."
* * *
It took me a couple of hours to get back into the rhythm of picking, then the hours went by in a dull blur of mechanical motion as I filled my boxes and put my chits in them. Loeffler was much quicker, filling his bag until it was bulging and massively heavy before he boxed them, and the old man was both slow to catch on and awkward on the ladders. Alma and Billy Jean were as good as most of the women, coming up with something over twenty boxes each for the day. Loeffler and I hit stride the next day and the old man's pick improved, and between us we made well over a hundred dollars for the day. On the third day the orchards were finished and we lost some time while we moved to another orchard field to the north, but we still made almost a hundred dollars. The trees weren't as good in the next field and we couldn't go as fast, but they were paying a dollar and a quarter so the money worked out about the same.
Ten hours of picking fruit and fucking Alma and Billy Jean each night began to wear me down, and I began thinking longingly of the running surf at Malibu. Loeffler began watching me more frequently with his dark, beady eyes, a thoughtful expression on his normally scowling face, and Billy Jean began watching me pensively. We finally talked about it, and on the seventh day Loeffler and I drove to the beach and he took the van back to pick fruit with the others, leaving me at the beach with my board. It was good riding the waves with the wind in my hair and the sun in my heart. I ran a few sets, then paddled my board far out into the swell to lie on it and bask in the sun. The beach was deserted and the rest of the world was an eternity away as I lay and let the salt water eat at the cuts on my hands as the sun baked life back into my body. Presently the tide began to ebb and an onshore wind picked up, and I paddled my board to the closest door and rode the laughing surf back to the beach.
There was a chick walking by herself on the beach, and she started to walk on by and ignore me until she saw that I didn't give a shit whether she noticed me or not, then she changed direction and walked closer to me as I lay sprawled on the sand, my head on my board.
"Hi," she said, slowing as she walked past.
"Hi," I replied, opening my eyes and looking up at her, then closing them again.
She walked on for a few feet, stopped, then turned and walked back. "Is the surfing good today?"
"It's always good," I replied, not opening my eyes. "Sometimes it's better than other times, but it's always good."
There was a soft sound in the sand as she sat down a few feet from me. "Do you come here often?"
"I come to all the beaches often-I live on the beach."
"That's sort of pointless, isn't it?" she asked, a note of pique in her voice because I was lying with my eyes closed when I should have been glaring at her with slobber running down my chin as I panted for her box; she was, in fact, a good looking head, but no better looking than the thousands I'd seen or the dozens I'd fucked.
"If it is, you'd better not do it, then."
"Well, I don't."
"OK, keep on not doing it."
She hissed with irritation and indignation as she got to her feet and walked away, going in the direction she'd been walking when I first saw her. She was gone about thirty minutes, then I heard her footsteps over the soft roll of the surf as she returned. She slowed down as she approached me, then she stopped again. "I suppose if I came back here this time tomorrow, you'd still be lying there, wouldn't you?"
"Maybe, maybe not. If I get hungry, I might go find something to eat."
"Steal something to eat, you mean. I know a Professor Leibel who says that indolence is the principal cause of crime. Poverty, lack of education, and everything else which most people usually regard as the basis for crime are only symptoms-it's simple laziness which is the root problem."
"You're a student, then?"
"Yes," she replied, a note of satisfaction in her voice.
"Leibel's at UC Davis. What are you doing here?"
She stuttered for a moment and cleared her throat, thrown off stride, then, "I'm visiting with a friend," she replied weakly.
I opened my eyes and looked up at her. She was better looking at close range than what I'd anticipated when looking at her from a distance. The beach robe was tightly belted around her waist, outlining her jutting breasts and swelling hips, and her attractive face was framed with short, brown curls which the wind had tossed into a pleasant disarray. Her legs were long and smoothly tapered up to the hint of brown, sturdy thigh I could glimpse below the hem of the robe. "Which house?"
She blinked at me, then shrugged and pointed. "That one."
She was pointing toward a cluster of expensive beach houses a half mile from the beach. "The one with the blue roof?"
"No, the grey one."
I turned back and put my head on the board again, closing my eyes. "A student visiting in the middle of a semester with a friend who owns a hundred thousand dollar house? In a pig's ass. Why didn't you just say that you ran out of tuition money and had to make some more?"
She fumed with anger, and a sudden pain lanced through my shin as she kicked me. "You ... you ... you ..."
I opened my eyes and looked up at her again. "Look, chick, you can call me a beach bum or anything else you want to call me, but don't kick." She drew her foot back, and I kept my legs absolutely still as I nodded. "Yeah, go ahead and do it, and I'll get up from here and whip your ass, chick. And if your boyfriend's at home, you can send him down here and I'll kick his ass so hard that you'll never be able to get his shriveled up old cock hard for him again."
"You're revolting," she snarled. "Absolutely disgusting. You lie there with that smug, self satisfied expression on your face and draw conclusions about something which you know absolutely nothing about-"
"Listen who's talking about conclusions-the one who said that I'd go steal something to eat."
"Well, perhaps that was unwarranted, but what you said was as well. Freddy and I happen to be very fond of each other-"
"What does Freddy do?"
"He's an advertising executive, and he-"
"And how old is Freddie?"
There was a moment of silence as she looked at me, open mouthed, then she shrugged slightly. "Well, he's about fifty-five, but he-"
"Shit."
She was speechless with anger as I closed my eyes again, then after she sputtered for another couple of seconds the sand spurted against my legs from the force of her strides as she walked away. It was still the middle of the morning and she was probably bored because her boyfriend wasn't there and wouldn't be there at all for a day or two, and unless she booked for the city she'd probably be back after she had a chance to cool off. I turned slightly so I could see the house and the beach in front of it through my slitted eyelids, then I scooted my ass from side to side until I'd dug myself a comfortable place in the sand.
The wind died away and surf improved as the feathering along the tops of the crests stopped, but I remained where I was, resting comfortably in a drowsy state between dozing and full wakefulness, occasionally opening my eyelids a fraction of an inch to glance at the house. A couple of hours passed and the sun became hotter as it swung higher, baking its warmth deep into my bones. There was a flash of color in front of the house, and I opened my eyes. She was coming down the path from the front of the house to the beach. I jumped to my feet and snatched up the board, then I raced for the surf.
I broke through the shore-break and paddled back out beyond the first breaker, then relaxed on my board again. The tide was almost static, and I remained in the same spot for almost an hour, letting the water lap at me as the sun baked my back. As I started back in, I saw her sitting on the beach at the spot where I'd been lying. It was a good wave, walling well in the shore-break, and she stood up and shaded her eyes with her hand when she saw me coming in. I shot the wave through the tunnel and hot-dogged the board all the way around as the wave broke into swash around my knees, then I hopped off the board and picked it up as I walked out of the swash and up the beach.
She had changed into a light cotton play suit and she looked a lot better in it. The shorts displayed her long, tanned legs, and most of the cleavage between her jutting breasts was visible above the knot which held the top together in front. Her expression was also considerably less confident, and she smiled diffidently as I walked toward her. "Would you like some lunch?"
I planted the tail of the board in the sand and leaned on it with one arm around it as I pushed my hair out of my face with my other hand. "Yeah, I'd like that. With you, I could eat sand for lunch. My name's Jim Harrison."
"I'm Celia Cooper, and I can do better than sand for lunch," she replied, giggling and wrinkling her nose at me. "Come on."
We walked along the sandy stretch toward the house, chatting; she was very lonely and almost pathetic in her eagerness to be pleasant so we would not argue again. Apparently the man who kept her wasn't much of a companion for her and he didn't want her visiting with anyone else in the neighborhood, because conversation seemed to bubble from her, the words tumbling over each other as she struggled to bridge the isolation she felt was walling her off from others.
The house was expensive, and it was nice. Many beach houses are stuffed with shit people buy to display the fact that they are able to buy it, but this one was artfully and tastefully decorated with a minimum of furniture and furnishings. Huge plate glass windows faced the surf in the front room, and the ceiling soared upward with heavy oak beams, making it a spacious, airy room which brought the beach in where it could be felt. The rest of the house was built around and complimented the front room, stretching away from it in wide expanses of hardwood floor broken by a few throw rugs.
"Lunch is always a problem for me," she said, walking across the front room toward the kitchen, "because I don't eat breakfast. If I make what I feel like having, then I won't be ready to eat again at dinnertime, but if I have a light lunch then I'm hungry again in the middle of the afternoon. Will crab salad be all right?"
"Sure. That's fine."
She opened the refrigerator, and I leaned against the side of the sink, looking at her and watching her, feeling the warm glow building up inside myself. Billy Jean and Alma had been keeping me drained, but the eternal tomcat male within me responded strongly and readily to something new and different. She rattled dishes around in the refrigerator, and I walked toward her, my bare feet soundless on the tile floor. She straightened up again and glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see me standing by the sink, and her eyes widened as she looked up at me. "Hey-wait a minute."
"You wait-I can't," I replied, putting my hands on her bare midriff and pulling her back against me.
She leaned passively against me as I put my lips gently on hers, tugging and pulling at her lips with a light pressure as I kissed her, then I turned her toward me, wrapping my arms firmly around her and holding her as I increased the pressure. Her lips parted slightly, warm and soft inside mine, and the perfume of her beautiful body filled my nostrils as I moved the tip of my tongue between her lips, feeling them and the edges of her teeth.
"Wait a minute, now, Jim," she murmured, taking her lips from mine. "When I invited you for lunch, I didn't mean ..."
I looked down into her eyes, holding her firmly against me, then I slid one hand down her back and cupped her buttocks through the thin fabric of the play suit as I cupped one of her breasts, feeling it. Desire for her suddenly escalated to a fiery heat as I felt her, realizing that she was naked under the play suit. "But when I accepted the invitation, I did mean," I replied, then I squeezed her tightly as I put my lips on hers again. The crushing force of my embrace pressed the breath from her lungs, and she collapsed weakly against me as she let her mouth go slack, opening for my tongue. I slid my tongue all the way to the back of her throat, tasting her saliva in my mouth and feeling the contours of the inside of her mouth with the tip of my tongue, and my cock began to stiffen, stretching in the front of my swim suit and pressing against her.
"Oh, Jesus," she murmured as I took my lips from hers and buried my face in her soft throat, my hands squeezing and feeling her buttocks and breast. "What did I let myself in for when I ... you're so ... so overwhelming ... if I don't let you, then I guess you'll just tear my things off me and throw me down on the floor to do it anyway ... you'll do what you want regardless of what I do or say ..."
It was partly rejection of a strong come-on mixed with rationalizing reasons why she couldn't comply with the small inner voice which was jabbering at her, telling her she shouldn't, but she wanted to; she had returned to me on the beach because she wanted to place her body in a situation where it would be used and satisfied, and the pink flush under the tan on her cheeks was an eager response to my manhood. Still, I wanted it clear between us. "I want you, Celia, and I want you more than I've ever wanted another woman, but I'm not going to rape you. If you want me to, I'll just leave."
"But I'm so lonely, Jim-I don't have anyone to talk with. I can't go to any of the houses around here and if Freddie thought I'd been roaming around down on the strip, he'd ... so lonely, Jim ..."
Not unreasonably, her boyfriend wanted to keep her a secret so his wife wouldn't find out, but that and the lack of sexual satisfaction was the price she paid, whether she recognized it or not. She wanted me, but she still wanted to be backed into a corner so she could say to herself that she'd had no option. "I'm sorry, Celia, but I can't even be around you on a basis of just being friends. You're so beautiful and I want you so much that I can't think of anything else."
"Oh, all right, Jim, if you have to," she murmured, pushing the door of the refrigerator closed and resting her head against my chest. "If you really have to, then ... now, if you like, then we'll have lunch ... you won't hurt me, will you? You'll be careful with me?"
"I'll be careful, honey," I said, embracing her again. "I won't hurt you."
She sighed and nodded, still leaning against me, and I tugged at the knot on the top of her play suit. It fell open, and I looked down at her naked, jutting breast as I caressed it and felt it. It was a smooth, downy mound of flesh which stood almost straight out from her slender chest, tipped by the small, rosy crest of her nipple, and my need for her swelled to a raging hunger as I caressed it and felt it. I held her with one arm as I bent over and lowered my mouth to suck at her breast, taking it between my lips and flicking the tip of my tongue across her nipple, and I felt a shiver pass through her body as she put her arms around my head, stroking my hair. "All right, Jim," she whispered, patting my head. "Come on, and let's go in the bedroom. Let's go in the bedroom and you can do what you want to."
I couldn't keep my hands off her as we walked to the bedroom, and she walked slowly, leaning against me as I kept one hand on her buttocks to feel the delicate swing as she walked and looked down at her breasts as I caressed them with my other hand. The bedroom was massive, so large it looked almost empty of furniture except for the king-sized bed in the center of the room. She shrugged out of the top of her play suit and dropped it to the floor as she kicked off her sandals, then she unbuttoned the shorts and pushed them down. A shadowy movement on the upper edge of my vision caught my attention as she tossed the covers to the foot of the bed, and I looked up; there was a large mirror on the ceiling above the bed, and I looked up at the reflection of the beautiful woman as she crept to the center of the bed. She rolled onto her back and flexed her knees, spreading her legs apart, then her eyes met mine in the mirror and she looked at me, waiting for me.
She turned toward me and held her arms out as I crawled onto the bed, and her mouth opened wide as our lips met. I crushed her body to mine and ran my hands up and down her to feel her silky skin as I probed my tongue deep into her mouth. She sucked and nibbled at my tongue as she pressed herself to me, her fingers combing through my hair. I moved my lips down her soft chin and throat, and she cupped one of her breasts and twisted on the bed to raise it to my mouth as she pushed my head down toward it. Her nipple hardened and protruded as I sucked at her breast and caressed her nipple with the tip of my tongue, and a soft moan came from her throat as she arched up off the bed, pushing her breast up at my mouth as she pressed my head downward. I opened my mouth wider and sucked her breast as hard as I could, sliding one of my hands down her flat stomach toward her pussy. Her thighs opened wide as my fingers touched the bun of crisp hair between her legs, and I could feel her hips responding with quick, thrusting movements as I cupped her pussy to feel it.
The numb, dizzying sea of frantic sexual desire enveloped me completely as I sucked at her breast and fondled her body, and it seemed that we were the only two creatures in the world as we writhed on the bed. I moved my lips on down her body, nibbling and kissing her velvet skin, and her hands moved over me in soft, quick caresses as she panted with arousal. I stiffened the tip of my tongue and drove it into her navel, wriggling it from side to side, and she moaned as she curled around me, scratching and biting at my back. She groped for my cock and balls, then her hand wrapped firmly around my cock and began stroking it. A violent quiver of sensation raced through her body as I moved my lips on down to the bun of hair between her thighs, nibbling at it, then she sat up on the bed with a wailing whimper as I dipped my head between her thighs and dragged the tip of my tongue through the crack in her vulva.
She spread her legs wide apart and dug her heels into the bed as she put her hands on the back of my head and pressed it deeper between her thighs, and the warm, pungent taste of her beautiful body filled my mouth as I probed back and forth in the crack of her vulva with the tip of my tongue. My tongue brushed against her clitoris, and it immediately hardened into a tiny nub as she uttered another wail and dug her fingernails into my head. I began flicking the tip of my tongue back and forth across her clitoris, and she threw herself back on the bed with a gasp, undulating her hips and pressing her pussy up at my mouth.
I could feel her hands moving around over my cock and balls, caressing them, then she rolled toward me in the 69 position and began kissing my balls. The trembling quivers passing through her body became more violent and her kisses on my balls grew gradually more heated, then she began lapping at my cock, sticking her tongue far out and dragging it back and forth along my cock. Finally she grasped the base of my cock in one hand and clenched my balls firmly in the other as she opened her mouth wide and took the head of my cock between her beautiful lips. Every muscle in my body knotted with ecstatic sensation as she began sucking my cock, pressing her head forward until the head of the cock was pressing against the back of her throat, then letting my cock slide from her mouth and lapping at the head of it with her tongue. I cupped her buttocks in my hands and turned my head slightly, looking up at the mirror, watching me lick her pussy as she sucked my cock, and our eyes met. The sensations suddenly ballooned within me, careening precariously close to a climax from the stimulation of watching her in the mirror, and I withdrew my head from between her thighs as I pulled at her and turned on the bed.
She met me eagerly, throwing her arms around my neck and opening her mouth wide for my tongue. Her fingers combed through my hair and wrung at it as we kissed and embraced, then her hands moved back down toward my cock as she wriggled to get under me. I slid between her legs as she grasped my cock, then she gave a quick lurch of her hips and my cock suddenly slipped into her pussy. "Aaaaagggggghhhhhh," she groaned, tensing all over and pushing at my shoulders. "Sit up and fuck me, darling ... up where I can see you while you fuck me ... want to see you and look at you while you fuck me ..."
I pushed myself up to my knees and cupped her buttocks in my hands, lifting her body slightly as I pushed forward on my cock. More of it slid into her on the lubrication of her saliva, and I began fucking her. She raised her legs from the bed and put her feet on my shoulders, clutching at my hands, and whispering urgently. "... good, baby, that's good, baby ... now squeeze my breasts while you ... that's right, that's good ... good, baby, good ... now more of your cock ... more ... all of it ... aaaagggghhhhhh, that's it, all of it, let me have all of it, darling ... harder ... faster ... fuck me faster ... I'm going to ... I'm going to come ... I'm coming ... COMING! COMING! NOW! AGGGGGHHHHHHH!"
She erupted into a climax, and I fell forward on top of her, gripping her tightly and ramming my cock into her as rapidly as I could while she tossed and undulated under me in a wild, uncontrolled flurry of motion. The convulsions gripped her for long moments, wringing her, then she went limp under me. I lay on top of her and panted as I clenched myself and held the semen back, and she moaned weakly as she coughed and gasped for breath. She drew in a long, shuddering breath as the mad racing of her heart began to moderate, and she threw her arms around the neck, kissing the side of my face. "That was beautiful, darling it was wonderful. Do you want to come now?"
I raised my head, kissed her soft lips, and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I want to come now, honey."
"Do you want to come in my pussy, or do you want to come in my mouth? If you want to come in my mouth, I'll swallow it-I'd like to drink your come. I'd like to feel it in my mouth as it comes out of your cock, and I'd like to drink it."
"I want to come in your belly," I said, pushing myself up and withdrawing my cock from her. "Get up on your hands and knees, honey."
She rolled over and pushed herself up to her hands and knees, raising her smooth, curved ass into the air, and I crouched behind her, feeling for the opening of her pussy. She put one hand back and helped me guide it in, and the warm, numbing feeling spread over me again as my cock slid into her hot, tight pussy.
I felt her thighs and buttocks as I pressed on my cock, sliding it all the way in, then I began fucking her with long, slow strokes as I looked down at her. She let her back sag in a deep curve as she rested her head on her forearms, holding her pussy up to my thrusting cock. I wanted to hold the climax back so I could savor the sight and sensation of her body, so I could fuck her for long minutes while I looked down at her, but I had been stimulated beyond endurance. The semen swelled and ballooned quickly within me, rapidly mounting to an unbearable pressure, and I ground my teeth together in my effort to hold it back for as long as possible. She sensed the nearness of my climax, and she began twisting her hips from side to side, whimpering in a soft, trembling voice for me to come in her. Then it was suddenly upon me, crushing me under a smothering, oppressive weight, and my control abruptly snapped. A shattering orgasm gripped me, and every muscle in my body snapped to a rigid tension as the come burst from me. She felt it spurting into her, and she uttered a small, glad cry as she wriggled her hips faster and pressed herself back against me. I tossed my head back and dug my fingers into her as I rammed my cock deep into her body and let the come gush out into her, then the strength began leaving my body and I slowly fell over onto my side, still clenching her. She reached back and dug her fingernails into my sides as she pressed her buttocks against me, undulating them in a slow circular motion and sucking the last drops of come from me with her pussy.
Chapter Six
The hours in the sun had burned me slightly, and that sufficed for an excuse for not fucking that night. Billy Jean pursed her lips in concern and concentration as she spread the sun tan lotion over my shoulders, back, and belly, and I slept all night under the awning without being awakened. The break in the monotony was enough to carry me for three more days, which brought the total bankroll .over a thousand, and we went back to the farm.
The old man found a rickety old tractor and some attachments for six hundred, and Loeffler and I picked up a GMC 216 engine at a wrecking yard for seventy five. We put the engine in the truck and tuned it up, using an assortment of plugs and points we'd ripped off from the wrecking yard, and it ran like a top. The old man began plowing, and he uncovered a field of potatoes which had been hidden by the weeds. Everyone pitched in to help dig them out, and we came up with about twenty bushels. They were stunted from maturing in the middle of the weeds, but they were food. There was an auction at a nearby farm where the owner had died, and the old man picked up a couple of coops of chickens and four hogs for little more than going after them. After that, things seemed to improve around the place and the pressure eased off.
We made a few short trips to beaches to keep our hand in, and a couple of times Billy Jean and Alma went with us. The trips gradually became longer and our stays at the farm became shorter, the weather changed and we went south to Baja California to surf the Tijuana Sloughs, and when we came back Billy Jean was large and heavy with my baby. She seemed happy enough about it, but then Alma was afraid to fuck and Billy Jean was more interested in having the baby than in fucking. Billy Jean found out that Alma was putting me off and beat the shit out of her, then things sort of went to hell. Alma was ready enough to fuck after that, but I could still feel an undercurrent of tension in her from fear of pregnancy. Loeffler and I began taking longer trips again, there were other women and the laughing surf on the beaches to draw me from Billy Jean's morning sickness and Alma's fearful embraces, and I woke one morning to realize it had been over a month since I'd seen either of them.
It was a chilly, windy morning with a front moving in from the west and a scouring wind feathering the tops of the waves into spray which dashed far up the beach in stinging droplets. Loeffler crouched in front of the stove and silently watched the eggs boiling in the pan of water as I leaned against the back of the van with a blanket around my shoulders and sipped a cup of coffee, sourly eyeing the walled out surf. "This is dogshit. Maybe it's better down at Malibu."
He shrugged and nodded at the road toward the highway, then moved the pan a fraction of an inch to center it on the flame.
"Or maybe we could go to the farm. Do you suppose Billy Jean's had the baby yet?"
He nodded and held up three fingers, and I shook my head as I took another drink of the coffee. "Well, that's out, because that's not long enough for her to be able to fuck-it'll have to be a month or six weeks at least." A sudden gust of wind tore the blanket open and raised goose pimples on my skin. "God damn, this is miserable," I said, turning my back to the wind and crouching by the stove as I pulled the blanket tighter. "Give me some more coffee."
He refilled the cup, then put the pot back on the stove and took the pan off, tilting it to pour the water out. I put the cup on a rock and reached in the box for the salt, then took one of the eggs from the pan and tossed it in my palm to cool it. Loeffler took one of the eggs from the pan and cracked the shell off in two neat halves, then put it in his mouth and chewed, apparently impervious to the scalding heat and not caring whether or not it was salted. I sighed patiently and began cracking the shell on the egg as he shucked another one and stuck it in his mouth.
We ate the eggs and drank the rest of the coffee, then cleaned up the things and put them back in the van. We'd driven most of the night and had parked the van for a couple of hours sleep before dawn, and I was undecided whether to go on or not. The front coming in from the west was a strong one and probably extended along a substantial portion of the California coast, and we might run into bad weather wherever we went. I found a wrinkled cigarette pack with a couple of dried up cigarettes in it, and I smoked one of them as we sat in the bucket seats, looking out at the dried grass waving in the wind and thinking, then I tossed the cigarette out the window and started the engine. "Let's drive on up this road and get into the brush so we'll be out of the wind, and we can put up the awning. We can stick around here today and see if the weather's any better tomorrow."
He made a sideward's motion with his hand as I put the van in gear, and I nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I know, and if we get stuck in the sand we'll just dig it back out. We've done it before, and it didn't kill us then."
The twin ruts of the hard-packed dirt road led through the dunes, getting further and further away from the hum of traffic on the paved highway, and the scrubby foliage on either side began to get somewhat thicker and taller. We passed a sedan parked at the side of the road, then the road started down a steep incline. I stepped on the brake and looked at it warily; it was in the low places that the sand drifted into depths negotiable only with a dune buggy, and if I got the heavy van stuck in sand at the bottom of a steep hill it would be billy hell to get out. I thought about it for a moment, then put the van in low and drove it into a small open space in the foliage at the side of the road. We were only fifty or sixty yards from the sedan and I liked privacy, but it could be that the ones who came in it were off in the weeds fucking and would leave shortly, and even if it were campers it would be less trouble to chase them off than it would be to dig the van out of the sand.
We got out of the van and opened the back doors to get the awning out, and I was walking back around to the front of the van to get another cigarette from the pack I'd found when I heard running footsteps on the road, coming from the direction of the sedan. I stopped and turned to look, and a young girl came racing around the corner, running at full speed. Her long brown hair was flying out behind her and her wind breaker was standing open as she dug her sneakers in, and as she came closer I could see that her small face was drawn and tense with terror. She burst past me and sprawled into the weeds in front of the van, leaning her head against the front bumper and gasping for air. "Please help me," she panted. "Don't let them get me-please help me."
I was wary, because it had the earmarks of a situation which might also involve guns and shit like that, and I didn't need to practice bleeding. "Who's after you, chick?"
"Those guys," she gasped, motioning toward the road. "Those freaks who got me ... got me and my friend ... brought us here ... they're there ..."
Loeffler was standing at the rear of the van, looking at the chick and then at me, waiting for instructions, and I rubbed my chin as I looked at the road. There was no sound or other evidence of life. "What guys! Where did you meet them?"
"San Jose ... bus station ... met us and said they'd take us to the hostel to stay, then kept us in the car ... brought us here ... got here about daybreak this morning ..."
"You and another chick?"
She swallowed deeply and nodded, pushing her hair back from her face, then she coughed a couple of times, almost retched, and swallowed again as she leaned against the bumper and closed her eyes wearily. "You got away from them and the other chick didn't?" She nodded again, not opening her eyes. "Were they acid-heads or something?" She opened her eyes, taking a deep breath, and nodded once more. "Something. Like fucking freaks, something."
"Come on," I said to Loeffler, walking toward the sedan, and he nodded as he started following me.
I still didn't like it, but it had to be dealt with sooner or later if there were freak-outs between us and the highway. We were almost to the curve when I heard the cough of the engine starting, and we started running. The car was turning in the road as we rounded the curve, and a cloud of dust came from its rear wheels as it shot away, fish-tailing slightly in a soft spot on the road. We stopped and watched it go, and through the rear window I could see a couple of men fighting with a woman in the rear seat.
The chick was standing by the van when we got back, still looking frightened, and a look of relief spread over her face when I told her that they'd got away with her friend. "They've gone, then?"
"Yeah. We didn't get there in time. How did you get away from them?"
"They tied me with a piece of rope, and I got out of it," she replied, holding out her hands and showing me the raw weals on her tiny wrists. "I was so scared I believe I could have broken a chain in two."
"Yeah, well, we'd better put something on those rope burns. I guess you haven't had anything to eat either, right?"
"Right as hell," she said, following me around to the rear of the van. "I didn't have anything to eat yesterday, either."
I got the first aid kit out and put some disinfectant on her wrists while Loeffler stamped the weeds down and put up the awning, then he got out the stove and fired it up again to boil the rest of the eggs. She sat on her folded legs, glancing up at Loeffler and looking at the pan hungrily as the eggs boiled, and I smoked the last of my cigarettes, looking at her. She was about fifteen or sixteen and fairly well developed for her age. The flared slacks she wore hugged her waist, hips, and thighs, and as I looked at the curves of her small, slender body the warmth I felt in my loins reminded me that it had been a couple of days since I'd unloaded. She was very attractive, with soft, pleasing features and enormous blue eyes, and would be a beautiful woman when she completely matured. Her eyes flicked toward me, and she smiled slightly as she looked back at the pan on the stove. "Are you from San Jose, then?"
"No, Auburn. I got fed up and made my break, and I met this other chick in the bus station in Frisco. She was on the game there and the heat was on her, and she was on her way to San Jose. I still had some money, so I got a ticket for San Jose, and I thought I'd be able to get a job hopping cars or something there. We got there last night, and she told me we could make it to a hotel and get a room then she'd turn a couple of tricks to get some dust to operate on. But as soon as we left the bus station this fuzz who knew her trucked up and told both of us to split. I thought he was going to bust me, but it turned out that he didn't want any trouble or anything-he just wanted us to split. We were out of money, and we were sitting around in the bus station and trying to decide what to do when these three dudes trucked up. We rapped for a while and they told us they'd take us to the hostel, then when we got in the car they jumped on us and tied us up-"
She broke off as Loeffler lifted the pan and poured the water out, then she reached for one of the eggs, licking her lips. "Watch, or you'll burn yourself. How is it that the other chick was so much help? Chicks on the game usually won't help anyone but themselves."
She tossed the egg. from one hand to another, then rapped it against a small rock on the ground and began picking the shell off, still tossing it in her hand. "I think she was a dyke. A lot of chicks on the game are, you know. While we were on the bus she kept her hand on my leg most of the time, and once she felt my boobs."
"You were going to shack up with a dyke?"
She glanced at me, then shrugged and took a bite of the egg, hissing through her teeth to cool it as she chewed it. "So what's the big deal? I mean, it beats getting smeared by an acid-head, doesn't it? She'd want to suck my boobs and lick my puss a little, maybe, but that's not going to kill me, is it?"
"Maybe she'd want you to suck her boobs and lick her pussy a little, too."
"Maybe she could stick it up her ass, too," she chuckled, shoving the rest of the egg in her mouth and reaching for another one. She swallowed and tapped the other egg against the rock, shrugging again. "I mean, you do what you have to do, right? I'm no dyke and I'm not going to dyke on some broad, but they're not bad when they have good sense and they have their shit together a little. I mean, there was this guy on the football team who was going to make it with me, and he fucking near killed me trying to find my puss, then there was this dyke I knew in Sacramento who was nice-the worst thing she ever did was to try to kiss me on my mouth after she'd been licking my puss, and I wasn't coming on that shit."
"I guess your folks are running around and trying to find out where you are, right?"
She took another bite of egg and shook her head. "No, they probably don't know I'm gone yet and it might be another week before they find out. My old man died four or five years ago, and there's just my mom and sister there now. Mom works in a massage parlor in Sacramento and she spends most of her time there, and sis just sort of does her thing and doesn't pay much attention to anything else."
"Is that why you made your break?"
She began cracking another egg, chewing and swallowing. "Maybe-I don't know. It just seemed like such a fucking drag-you know."
"What were the freaks going to do to you and the other chick?"
"They did it to her already-I saw them doing it, and that's what flaked me out on the whole deal. I mean, I've not been on the game like she has and I wouldn't even want some guy just jumping on me and ramming his tool into me, so I was scared shitless when they tied us up. Then when we got here and I saw what they were doing to her, I was spastic. One of them shoved his cock in her butt, another one got his cock into her puss, and the third one had his cock in her mouth." Another thought seemed to occur to her, and she suddenly stopped chewing, looking slowly from Loeffler to me. "Hey, you guys aren't hung on that action, are you? I mean, you aren't going to give me some eggs to eat then throw me down and put it to me, are you?"
I laughed and shook my head. "No, he's sort of hard to get stirred up," I said motioning toward Loeffler, "and the only ones he seems to like are big fat Mexican women. I get turned on pretty fast, but I'm no rapist and I'm sure as hell not a freak-out."
She began chewing again as she looked at me thoughtfully. "Well, do I turn you on?"
I nodded. "Yes, you turn me on all right-what's your name?"
"Jane. Janie Hollister."
"... Janie, and I could get it on with you in a minute. But, like I said, I'm still no freak-out and you can get up and walk away any time you want to."
She looked down at the partially eaten egg she was holding and sighed deeply. "And go where?"
"Anywhere that turns you on. Maybe you're just finding out that everything has a price, chick. Home was a drag, but that was the price you were paying for having it. Nothing's free."
She took another bite of the egg and slowly chewed, looking down at the ground, then she glanced up at Loeffler as he got the pot and began making some coffee. She was silent for several minutes, thinking, and I dug in my pocket for the pack of cigarettes I'd found. It was empty, and I wadded it in a ball and tossed it away. She looked at it and glanced at me, then she dug in the pocket of her wind breaker, took out a pack of cigarettes, and handed it to me. "I don't smoke-I bought them in Sacramento just to look cool and maybe older than I was, but I don't like them."
"Thanks," I said, taking the cigarettes and shaking one out of the pack.
"That won't be enough to get me off the hook, though, will it?"
"No."
She nodded and put the rest of the egg in her mouth, sighing deeply again and looking up at the sky as she chewed, then she wiped her hands on the thighs of her slacks and pushed her hair back out of her face. "That one guy-he really hurt me, he really did. I bled for a couple of days."
"Maybe he didn't know what he was doing. It hurts a little for a chick who hasn't been fucked much, but she gets used to it pretty quickly. After a while she begins to like it."
She nodded again fractionally. "That's what some have told me about it," she murmured. "Well, I can't go stuff like headers and that way out shit, you know."
"That's OK."
"All right, then, if you'll not hurt me too bad and you'll ... you know, take care of me and all that stuff. Maybe you could even take me back home so I could see my mom and sis and you could meet them-she wouldn't mind it if we were making it together. I mean, she knew about that one guy who hurt me so bad, and she just told me that I should have used some Vaseline or something. So it'll be OK for you if she knows. I mean, she won't call the heat down on you or anything, even though I'm not ... well, not old enough to get married. What's your name?"
"Jim." I put the cigarette in my mouth and lit it, then I exhaled a cloud of smoke. "Jim Harrison. He's Kurt Loeffler."
"He won't want it, too, will he?"
"No, like I said, he just likes big fat Mexican women. You're not a Mexican, and you're sure as hell not big and fat."
She nodded, licking the crumbs of egg from the corners of her mouth and sucking at her teeth as she looked down at the ground. "Do you want to get in the van and do it now, or will you wait until later?"
"Later. It'll be easier on you if you know me better."
"That's what I was thinking," she nodded. "It seems so cold just to meet a guy and then let him hop on and fuck you-could I have a cigarette?" I started to hand her the pack, and she shook her head. "No, let me have the one you're smoking, and you can light another one-I want to smoke the one you've been smoking." I lit another one from it and handed it to her, and she took a puff. "I mean, you're nice looking and everything, and maybe after a while I'll even want you to ... you know, fuck me."
She became silent, looking down at the ground and smoking the cigarette, and I looked at her, my eyes moving over her young, slender body, and desire for her began to form into a hot, burning fire in my loins. The coffee perked, and Loeffler got the cups from the van. We always drank it black and without cream, and one cup of the black, bitter liquid was all she could manage. I sipped another cup as Loeffler got in the van, rummaging around, and he tossed a bikini out of the back of the van. Janie picked up the scraps of cloth and looked at them, smiling at me. "Hey, how'd you get this? You didn't scare some chick so bad that she made her break in the buff, did you? Maybe I should be scared, too."
I laughed, shaking my head. "No, a chick left that there a couple of weeks ago. We were at that place two or three days, and she didn't show up again or come back for it. Will it fit you?"
"I think so. Looks like she might have been better off than I am in the boob department, but it should keep me covered. This is great, Jim-I like to swim."
"Well, if you like to swim, then get it on. The beach is just on the other side of that hill."
"I can't go by myself, though."
"I wasn't going to let you," I said, standing. "Throw me my swim suit, Kurt."
She looked uncertainly around as Loeffler handed me my swim suit from the van, then she stood up and looked around again as I started taking my shirt off. I dropped my shirt to the ground and shoved my dungarees and shorts down, sliding them off my feet, and she cleared her throat self-consciously as she began to undress. She hung her wind breaker on a peg on one of the poles supporting the awning, then she tugged her blouse out of the waistband of her slacks and unbuttoned it. I pulled my swim suit on and got another cigarette out of my dungarees, and she looked up at Loeffler as he came back out of the van. He was carrying a can of white gasoline and a box filled with an assortment of food, and he looked through her as he walked to the stove and knelt in front of it, taking the tank off to refill it. She hung her blouse on top of her wind breaker and unzipped her slacks, then pushed them down and stepped out of them. I could see her white, slender body clad only in panties and bra from the corner of my eyes as I looked at Loeffler, watching to see what he would pick out for lunch, and the burning desire in my loins escalated, becoming a gnawing hunger. She took her bra off and quickly put the bikini top on, then she slid her panties down and almost jumped into the bikini bottom. I turned from Loeffler and looked at her as she fumbled with the knot on one side, trying to tie it, then I walked over to her and knelt by her to help her. "Let me give you a hand, Janie."
She had a beautiful body, and I had to grip myself to keep my hands from trembling as I knotted the scrap of fabric at her side, on the swell where her tiny waist swelled out to the smooth curve of her hips and buttocks. Her thighs were full and sturdy, almost athletic, and her skin had the soft, downy look which would disappear when the hormones of womanhood made hair grow on her legs and arms. I tied the knot firmly, and her small hand touched my chest as I stood back up. "You do like me, don't you, Jim?"
I nodded, taking a deep breath. "It's an understatement, but you can say that I like you, Janie."
She smiled up at me, pushing her hair back. "If you really want to, we can do it now, darling. If it's bothering you, you can fuck me now so you'll feel better."
It was tempting, but I shook my head. "No, we'll do what we said we'd do. Come on."
We walked back along the road until we found a path leading across the hill, and I followed her up the path, watching her slender hips moving from side to side under the skimpy bikini. My cock swelled to the beginnings of a hardon, making the front of my swim suit bulge, and I was seething with desire for her by the time we got to the top of the hill. The air had warmed somewhat from earlier in the morning, but it still felt slightly chilly against my naked skin as the full force of the wind hit me. She stopped at the top of the hill, looking down at the lines of walled out surf breaking and surging up the beach in boiling masses of swash, and she put her arm around my waist as I put my arm around her shoulders. "Doesn't it look nice, Jim? Isn't it pretty."
"The ocean's always beautiful to look at, but that kind of break isn't pretty to a surfer-it's walled out."
"Will you teach me to surf?"
"Sure, if you can learn. Some people can't, you know-it takes a feeling of balance that some people just don't have."
"I thought anyone could just get a board and learn."
"Anyone can play in the water, but only a small number of them ever learn to surf. Come on."
The child which the woman in her had yet to crowd out asserted itself when we got into the water, and she squealed with delight as she raced into the shore-break and disappeared from sight. I started toward her to get her out of it, then the wave broke and she reappeared from the tons of water in a flurry of slender limbs, spinning through the swash, and her shrill, delighted laugh rang over the sound of the crashing surf again as she darted back into the water and dived into the shore-break again. It bore her upward, and her slender body broke out of the center of the wave as it broke, shooting her through the waist-deep swash toward the beach. She jumped to her feet, water streaming from her face and body and her hair in a long, sodden mass down her back, and she sprang through the swash and dived into the breaker again. After the third time of making it out safely, I decided that she was more at home in the water than I'd first thought and left her to her own devices.
An old man in Hawaii had once told me that there was a sucking undercurrent in a shore-break which would carry a swimmer out to the other side of the breaker if he could find it, and for years I'd been searching for a way to identify it. In the absence of a rip current, getting beyond the shore-break is the most difficult part of surfing, and that could be eliminated if a technique of going through or under the wave could be discovered. I'd found the undercurrent a number of times, and each time it had shot me like a bullet under the wave, almost throwing me out of the water on the ocean side of the towering mass of water, but it had been fortuitous circumstance in each instance; I'd never found out a means of identifying it. I dived into the shore-break several times, swimming with all my strength a couple of feet from the bottom, but each time the wave rolled me up and out, back toward the beach.
I finally gave up and stumbled back through the swash, pushing my hair back and wiping the water from my eyes, and Janie was standing in the boiling mass, her arms wrapped around herself and her small body swaying as the swash rolled in up around her waist and washed back out down to her knees. She looked like a small, beautiful goddess of the ocean, with her face bright and clean, her hair in a thick mass down her back, the top of the bikini plastered to her and her nipples showing through it, and a fringe of the downy hair between her curved thighs showing at the edges of the thin fabric which covered her small pussy. "I'm cold," she chattered over the sound of the surf.
I went to her and put my arms around her, and she cuddled against me, shivering. Her skin felt smooth and soft under my hands as I moved them slowly up and down her back. She pressed herself against me, drawing the warmth from the contact between our bodies, then she sensed what I was thinking and slowly raised her small face to look up at me. I lowered my lips to hers, and she put her hand behind my head as our lips met. There was a sharp taste of salt and the warm, sweet taste of her saliva in my mouth as she opened her lips for my tongue, and her hand on the back of my head tightened as she sucked and nibbled at my tongue with the edges of her white teeth. My hand moved up to cup her breast, feeling the small, hard bulge which jutted straight out from her slender chest, and I caressed the contours inside her mouth with the tip of my tongue. Her soft lips were damp and shiny with our saliva when I raised my head and looked down at her again, and her eyes remained fixed on mine as she tugged the top of the bikini down and put my hand on her naked breast. I ran my fingers over the velvety skin on her breast then cupped it and felt it, still looking down at her. She put her hand behind my head again, tugging, and she pulled my mouth down to her breast. I opened my mouth wide and took her breast between my lips, and her small hand tugged at mine, dragging it down and pushing it into the front of her bikini. I slid my fingers between her thighs and cupped her pussy as she spread her feet apart slightly, then she wrapped her arms around my head and kissed the side of my face as we stood with the water surging around us, her small face grave and serious as she watched me sucking her breast and feeling her pussy.
The desire had subsided to a gnawing, hungry ache again by the time we got back to the van. Loeffler had found a stream at the bottom of the hill and had done the washing, and all the dirty clothes, including the ones Janie had been wearing, were flapping in the wind on a clothesline between a couple of trees. We went down to the stream and stood in it naked, washing the salt from our bodies and shampooing our hair, then we rinsed the salt from our swim suits, put them back, and Walked back up to the van. Loeffler had cleared a space by the awning and had built a fire, and we knelt in front of it, drying our hair and eating lunch. It began raining, and Loeffler took the clothes down from the line and hung them under the awning, then tightened the ropes holding the awning and built up the fire. Janie and I sat by each other with a blanket wrapped around us, looking out at the rain and listening to the fire hiss as drops fell in the bed of coals, and Loeffler lay down in front of the fire, apparently dozing off.
My hand was resting on the smooth swell of her hip where it flared out from her tiny waist, and her head was resting against my chest. I looked down at her, breathing the sweet scent of her body and looking down into the top of the bikini at the cleavage between her small, hard breasts, and she slowly raised her face and looked up at me as my hand tightened on her, feeling her skin. She smiled, then looked out at the rain again as she groped for my other hand. She found it, lifted it and pressed it to her breast, then moved closer to me as I felt her breast. "Jim, you know I said there were some things I wouldn't do-far out things like the head and all, you know," she murmured quietly.
"Yeah, I remember."
"Well, I've changed my mind. I'll do anything you want me to as long as it doesn't hurt too bad. When that guy stuck his cock in Betty's butt this morning, I knew it hurt her because she screamed and cut up like you wouldn't believe. But then he didn't fool around or anything-he just rammed it straight into her. If you're onto that, I wouldn't mind your doing it to me if you'll use something ... ah, some Vaseline or something to make your cock slick so it won't hurt too bad, and not ...you know, just shove it all the way in without working up to it. Also, I'll head down on you if you want me to-I've done it before and I don't know exactly how to do it, but if you'll just tell me what to do to make it good for you, then I'll do it. OK?"
"OK, but it'll probably be a long time before I even get enough of your pussy to satisfy me."
She chuckled, then pulled the top of the bikini down and pressed my hand to her naked breast. "Do you like my boobs, too?"
"Yeah, they're nice and hard. I like you all over."
"I like for you to like me all over. When we were standing in the surf and you were kissing my boobs and feeling my puss, it felt wonderful-made me feel warm all over, and it made me wish that we were where you could put your cock in my puss."
"We were almost where I could-if I'd got much hotter, I'd have fucked you right there."
She smiled up at me, then her smile faded and her large blue eyes looked deep into mine. "Let's go do it now, darling. Let's go in the van and you can fuck me."
My cock was erect and making the front of my swim suit bulge as I stood and walked to the rear doors of the van, and she picked up the blanket and followed me, shaking the bits of grass and sticks from the blanket. I opened the door, and she hopped lightly into the van and spread the blanket out on the floor. "Will you do something for me, Jim?"
"Sure-what is it, honey?"
"Will you do it really quick this time? I know guys like to hold it back so they can fuck for a long time, but will you do it just as quick as you can and come in me, darling?"
"Why?"
"Oh, I'd just like for you to," she said, shrugging out of the bikini top and tossing it to one side. She tugged at the knot at the side of her bikini, then it dropped around her ankles and she lowered herself to the blanket, smiling up at me. "If you really don't want to, then it'll be OK. But if you don't mind too much, I'd really like for you to just get it off in me and come in me as quickly as you can."
I pushed my swim suit down and stepped out of it, then I knelt by her and put my hands on her breasts, feeling them. "Yeah, well, I won't hold it back too long, honey."
She smiled up at me and nodded as she flexed her knees and spread her legs apart. "All right, darling. Come on. Come on and put it in me."
Her eyes were languidly half closed and her lips were shining and damp as she passed the tip of her pink tongue across them, smiling up at me in sultry invitation which made the woman and child in her blend into a single entity, bringing my smoldering desire to a fiery, raging lust. There was the alluring beauty of primitive womanhood, blended in strangely harmonious union with the fresh and captivating beauty of a child, the delicate grace of a fawn. The ravening hunger for her shot through me with the shattering impact of a thunderbolt, making my breath catch in my throat, and I looked down at her young, slender body lying and waiting for me, moving my trembling hands around on her. I squeezed and fondled one of her hard, jutting breasts as I slid my other hand down her flat, silky stomach to cup her pussy. One of her small hands wrapped around my throbbing cock and squeezed it as I stroked her small, soft vulva with my fingers, feeling her warm, tender flesh, and the thin, silky hair covering her pussy. From the thick mass of brown hair under her head and down her small, slender body to her tiny feet, she seemed to be the epitome of beauty and desirability, and I savored the anticipation of having her small body as I looked down at her and felt her. She suddenly raised herself on one elbow and pushed my hand on her breast to one side as she gripped the swollen shaft of my trembling cock and covered the head of it with her mouth. My muscles knotted and the breath was forced from my lungs by the sudden ecstatic thrill which shot through me, and she made a muffled sound of effort in her chest as she forced her head down on my cock, gorging her mouth with it and sucking it. She could get only a few inches of it in her mouth, but the sensations gripping me were so intense that they were almost unbearable as she moved her head up and down on my cock, running her tongue around it and sucking it as hard as she could. She lifted her head, letting my cock slip from her mouth with a damp sound, then she looked up at me, holding the shiny head of my cock against her damp lips. "Is that the way to do it, darling? Does that feel good?"
"It's goddamned near too good," I gasped.
She pursed her lips, kissing the head of my cock, then stuck the tip of her tongue out and ran it around the head of my cock. "If you want to come in my mouth you can, darling. I just want to make you feel good, and I'll do anything it takes to do that."
She lifted herself higher and propped herself on one arm as she opened her mouth wide and took my cock between her lips again, and the exhilarating thrill gripped me once more as the hot, damp stricture of her mouth closed around the head of my cock. I took her small head between my hands and began moving my hips, sliding the head of my cock in and out between her lips, and she became perfectly still as she sat with her head over my cock, letting me fuck her in the mouth. Saliva began running out of her lips and down the shaft of my cock as I eased it in and out, and I could feel the thick shaft of my cock gorging her small mouth as I held her cheeks between my hands. It took my utmost control to refrain from driving it too far into her mouth and choking her, and I moved my hips slowly as I felt the head of my cock traveling between her tongue and the roof of her mouth to touch the back of her throat.
I stopped fucking her in the mouth, and she began moving her head up and down again and turning it from side to side as she sucked at my cock as hard as she could. My breath was coming in quick, laboring gasps as I looked down at her and ran my hands over her, feeling her thin shoulders, small, hard breasts, and the silky skin on her slender back. The battering sensations racing through me began to drive me precipitately close to a climax, and at the same time I experienced a sudden, overwhelming desire to taste her beautiful body in my mouth. I put my hands under her chin, lifting it, and she glanced up at me, saliva running from both corners of her mouth and down her chin. She relaxed and lay back as I pushed her shoulders, and she flexed her knees again as she opened her legs apart. "Do you want to put it in me, darling? Go ahead-stick it in me as far as it'll go and fuck me as hard as-" She broke off as I held her thighs apart and bent forward over her pussy. "What are you doing, darling? You don't have to do that to me ..." She started to sit up and reached for my shoulder, tugging at it, then I opened my mouth wide and closed it over her small pussy, dragging the tip of my tongue on her clitoris. "OH, MI-GOD ... WHAT ... WHAT ... DON'T ... DON'T ... DO ... AAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHH!"
She locked her thighs together around my head and surged up from the blanket in a taut, quivering arc, then she collapsed limply back to the floor of the van and I pulled her thighs apart as I began dragging the tip of my tongue back and forth on her clitoris. Her hands scrabbled frantically for my cock as she continued to whimper small, protesting sounds in her throat, then she began eagerly gobbling at my cock. She thrust her head down on it until it was gagging her, and her movements were erratic and uncoordinated as she struggled to tolerate the sensations my tongue were creating in her. I felt through her vulva for her clitoris, then found it. It was a tiny nub, hardly detectable, and I eased the tip of my tongue back and forth across it. She suddenly sat up, wrapping her hands around my arm and pulling at it. "Don't darling," she whimpered. "Please stop it now ... can't stand it, darling ... please go ahead and fuck me ... put your cock in me and fuck me, darling ... please ..."
I lifted my head from between her thighs, and she uttered a long, deep sigh of relief and spread her legs wide apart for me as I turned and got between her thighs. "It was too much, Jim ... honestly, it was just too much for me ...I couldn't stand it anymore-"
"It won't be as hard to take the next time, and then you'll begin to like it," I said, kneeling between her thighs and lifting them on top of mine.
"Maybe so-maybe so. It was ... sort of good, but just too good."
I held her vulva apart with one hand and guided the tip of my cock into her channel with the other. "Let's see how this feels," I said, moving my cock around in a circular motion and touching the edges of her opening with it.
"Go ahead, darling-just go ahead and put it in," she whispered in a tense voice.
I pressed forward, and the head of my cock slipped smoothly into her on the lubrication of her mouth on my cock and my mouth on her pussy. She uttered a muffled grunt as every nerve in my body sang from the sensation of entering her, then she stretched languorously, spreading her arms wide apart and moving her small hips in a circle. "That doesn't hurt, darling. It feels ... good, sort of. Sort of like you're filling an empty space in me that's missing something. Put more of it in, darling-more of it ..."
She threw herself wide open, flexing her knees and putting her hands behind them to hold them apart, and she strained her head up off the blanket to look down between her breasts at my cock as it started sliding into her from the motions of my hips. I looked down at my cock inching into her, and the sensations gripping me were almost as intense as those which had seized me when she began sucking my cock. The impulse to spear my cock deep into her with a single thrust was so strong that it made me tremble all over, and I clamped a firm control over my movements as I eased it into her. I put my hands under her and held her up off the blanket to keep her pussy straight in line with my cock, and I worked it into her until half of it was sliding into her slender body. Sweat was standing out on my body from exertion and from my efforts to control myself as I began fucking her with long, steady strokes, pulling her back until only the head of it was in her then thrusting forward until it became tight. More of it sank into her with each stroke, then it was entering her up to the thick, wide part of the shaft and she was moving her hips in a steady circular motion as I fucked her. I glanced up at her face. Her eyes were tightly closed, her mouth was open, her cheeks were flushed, and her breath was coming in quick, gasping pants. I slid one hand down to her pussy and touched her clitoris with the tip of my finger, and her hips responded, thrusting her pussy up at me. "Ooooohhhhh, it's getting too good again, Jim-no, don't stop, don't stop ... more of it ... put more of it in me ... aaaaaahhhhhhhhh ..."
Her eyes opened again, and there was a bright, gleaming light of arousal in them as she looked up at me, watching me fuck her. She planted her feet firmly against the blanket and thrust her pussy up at me as the full length of my cock glided in and out of her, and I cupped her buttocks in my hands, holding her up off the blanket as I drove it into her. Her expression was one of sensual pleasure mixed with surprise and wonder at what was happening to her as the sensations brought her closer and closer to a climax. I could also feel the oppressive burden of an approaching orgasm, the pressure and weight building up on me with every stroke of my cock into her hot, tight pussy, and I clenched against the burgeoning urge as it loomed larger and heavier on me. My finger moved back and forth across her clitoris in rhythm with the throbbing shaft of my cock gliding into her, and her pumping hips assumed the same tempo. I increased the pace, driving my cock into her with harder thrusts, and her small body was suddenly seized with an urgent trembling which shook her from head to foot. "Jim ...Jim ... I'm going to ... it's going to ... AAAAGGGGHHHHHH ... OH, MIGOD ... OH, MIGOD!"
She burst into an orgasm, tossing her head from side to side as rippling waves of motion traveled down her slender body from her shoulders to her hips, and I rammed my cock into her with long, hard strokes, making her breasts move resiliently back and forth from the pressure of the thrusts. I looked down at her, gloriously triumphant over her pleasure, then the full force of the massive pressure within me struck. The semen was bursting me and tearing me apart with its massive pressure. I released my control, and the first thick, hot spurt of semen which exploded from me was almost painful, the relief was so great. I fell forward on top of her and cupped her buttocks in my hands as I continued spearing my cock into her, letting the come erupt into her and driving it deep in her belly, and she wailed a soft, glad cry as she felt it bathing her womb. Her movements had been ebbing in intensity, then when she felt the come boiling out into her she threw her arms around my neck and pressed her heels against the back of my thighs as she drove her pussy at me, drawing the come from my cock. The shattering orgasm gripped me and wrung my come and strength into her, then I collapsed on top of her.
Chapter Seven
It was almost too good to be true. She was a dozen women in passion, draining my loins to a painful dryness, and a thousand women in her moods which ranged from tearful melancholy to a ribald humor. She was a childhood sweetheart in her shy smile and small hand in mine, an understanding companion in her thoughtful expression and penetrating questions about my thoughts, a beloved sister in her compassion and sympathy for my bitterness toward life, and the eternal female in serving the needs of my body. The child stood forth in her delighted enjoyment of simple, uncomplicated pleasures, and an agelessly adult woman whose understanding of me exceeded mine shone in her large, blue eyes when the need arose. Her mercuric shifts in mood would have us chasing through the surf after each other like two children at one moment, then the next moment she would have her bikini off and would be lying on the sand on her back, holding her thighs apart with her hands and thrusting her pussy up at me with alluring undulations of her hips as her gleaming eyes and damp lips begged for my cock. I would wake in the night and find her studying my face with her deep, liquid eyes, and she would cradle my head in her arms as she slipped one of her small, hard breasts between my lips for me to fondle and suck until I slept again. She was passionate and inventive, one time making me sit on her chest and stroke my cock between her breasts until my come gushed out over her lips, another time begging me to lie on my back and watch her until her small hands and lips coaxed the come from my cock, twisting and writhing in an agony of ecstasy as I watched it bubbling from the corners of her mouth while she drank it, and yet another time lying on her stomach with her smooth, rounded buttocks elevated, begging and pleading for my cock until I carefully slid the head of it into her anus and bathed her colon with come.
The rain continued, and the road back to the highway became a sea of sandy mud, impassable for the van. On the second day Loeffler found a battered board which had been washed up by the wild surf, a seven foot sporting goods store special which was almost waterlogged. He dried it over the fire, smoothed and reshaped the nose and rails with a knife, then waterproofed it with a couple of coats of paint. On the fourth day the rain abated, but the road was still impassable and Loeffler left to walk and hitch to the nearest town for food. The wind had abated and the surf was running in a long, hard swell and a triple break, about every third wave completely walled out. Janie and I walked over the hill to the beach, carrying our boards, and I carefully explained the basic principles of balancing a surfboard to her as we walked. When we got to the beach she was too impatient to try it to listen, so I let her go and followed her, keeping an eye on her so I could pull her out if she got into trouble. She seemed to spot the door before I did, cautiously getting to her feet as the board went into a slow slide, then it wobbled from side to side as her arms wind milled. She almost wiped out a couple of times as it tried to get from under her, and I shouted for her to flex her knees so she would have a lower center of gravity and quicker control over her weight. She couldn't hear me because of the roar of the surf, but she seemed to intuitively perceive her problem and assumed a loose, flexible stance on the board, moving back a few inches so the nose would plane over the ripple instead of chatter against it.
Then she began flying. It was as though she had suddenly discovered the medium for which she had been born after struggling for years in a foreign environment. There was the grace of the wind-borne gull as her slender body balanced effortlessly on the board in a long, sweeping slide, her small arms spread loosely and her body turned almost completely sideward's to her line of motion, a full four feet of the board planning out of the water and leaving a white wake behind it. I watched open-mouthed as she neatly broke into a turn and dug the skeg with a quick movement of her foot, then she was off on another long, breathless slide. She shot the shore-break too close to the curl, coming within a hair's breadth of wiping out as the wave broke into a boiling mass of foam around her, and she struggled to maintain her balance as it swelled up around her knees. Then she was past it and in another slide toward the swash.
In the countless millions of people who have lived there must be those who were master painters from the moment they lifted a brush and expert marksmen from the moment they saw a rifle, and somehow through a marriage of genes and environment she was a naturally talented surfer from the instant she stepped on the board, needing only to reach to achieve a perfect harmony of her weight, the board, and the water under it. It seemed to surprise her as much as me, because she was strangely silent and thoughtful as she stumbled out of the surf with her board. She looked down at it and lifted it, balancing it in her hands, then she looked back at the shore-break and studied it, as though doubting what she had just done. The question was there in her eyes and blocked within her by the lack of words to express it as I walked up to her, then she smiled shakily and shrugged whimsically, nodding toward the water. I nodded in reply, and as one we turned and lifted our boards, diving into the water.
We ran sets, holding hands and laughing our joy until the massive bulk of the second break bore us into the air, then we shot the waves with our boards within inches of each other. We felt the surging shift of the tons of water under us in the same instant, turning as one, and even our vagrant impulses seemed to be shared as we hot-dogged and slid at the same time. The beach was deserted, and the urge to surf naked seemed to occur to both of us at one time because there was no communication beyond a quick smile as we both began undressing. We ran sets naked, our hands on each other's bodies until the long slides began, then our laughter held the bond between us. She left her board on the beach and rode with me on mine, and our bodies were as one as the board skimmed through the water. She climbed on me, clinging to me and sitting on my shoulders, then hanging around my neck and pushing her breast into my mouth. My cock swelled and grew from the beauty of her body and the triumphant joy of the moment, and the perfect moment was achieved in a glorious climax as we lay on the beach with the swash boiling around us, our bodies throbbing in the ecstatic rhythm of creation.
Day after day slowly drifted by. The sun would come out for a day or two and the road would begin to dry, then it would rain again. I didn't care if we remained rained in forever, because the place was almost idyllic in our virtual isolation from the rest of the world. The weather brought the fish in to feed, and the fishing was exceptional just off a point a couple of miles down the beach. Each time we were there we returned with several large sea bass and snappers; we got eggs, potatoes, and a couple of chickens from a farm a few miles down the highway, and the only necessities we were missing were cigarettes and beer. After we had been rained in for a week, Loeffler made another hitch hiking trip to the nearest town for a few staples, and Janie got pleasantly bombed on a couple of cans of beer I let her drink.
Janie's surfing improved each time she went into the water, and after a week she was virtually as good as Loeffler, making hot-dog starts and sliding through the door with the skeg toward the beach then sweeping into a teetering, breath-stopping turn on the verge of a wipeout as she started her run to shoot the first breaker. It wasn't long before she was vying with me, breaking over the crests of the breakers just before they began to wall and then making a double turn to shot the tunnel under the curling peak.
Her talent was completely intuitive, because she didn't know the first thing about the principles involved. That was evident from our conversation when she asked what I was doing while I was searching for the hidden undercurrent below the shore-break.
"But how could there be an undercurrent going back out toward the ocean? It's just a bunch of water rushing in toward the beach, isn't it?"
I laughed, shaking my head. "A wave on a beach isn't like water running along a river. As a wave approaches the continental shelf, it's a line of force on a vertical plane which runs far down into the water. The bottom of it hits the shelf and sets up a sort of spinning motion like a wheel as it rolls in, and it's usually more or less consistent at a given place because of the formation of the bottom out from the beach. That's why Rincon and Topanga Canyon have shore-break surf, Del Mar and Sunset Cliffs have beach surf, and Doheny Park and San Onofre have multiple-break surf."
"The only thing I understand out of that was it's sort of like a wheel rolling in."
I laughed again and patted her bottom. "Well, anyone who can surf the way you do doesn't have to worry about it. There's all kinds of complications, like the rip currents we find to take us out now and then, and not even scientists understand all there is to know about it. But if I could figure out how to get into the undercurrent below the shore-break, we could get out easy all the time."
"It is a hassle getting over the shore-break sometimes. Are you sure there's such a thing as this undercurrent?"
"Yeah, I've hit it a couple of times, but I've never been able to figure out how to identify it."
"Has anyone?"
"Not as far as I know, and I believe I'd know if anyone had."
"Where'd you hear about it?"
"An old man in Hawaii told me about it."
"And he didn't tell you how to find it?"
"Not in such a way that made sense to me. It seemed to have to do with praying or something he didn't speak English very well."
"Praying?"
"Praying?"
"Or something. It wouldn't do us any good, though, because he was a member of one of the traditional pagan religious sects."
"What was it like when you found it?"
A mental image of the eerie, green depths, the crushing pressures, and the boiling currents formed, and an icy finger touched my spine. "It's a trip," I said, shaking my head, "a bad scene like from now. Up isn't anymore, and things get turned all around. Wait until you've done everything else before you try it, Janie. Wait until you've done everything you'll ever want, because things might not be the same again."
"I don't know what you mean."
"I don't either, and all I can do is spout shit from my mouth and try to put it together as it comes out."
Some of what was in my mind must have been on my face, because there was a white line around her small mouth as she looked up at me. "Maybe if it's such a bad scene, it's better just to go over the shore-break and forget it," she murmured quietly.
I looked out over the surf, thinking for a moment, this I shrugged. "Maybe so, Janie, maybe so."
She picked up her board and put her small hand on my arm. "Come on, Jim, it's about supper time. Let's see if Kurt caught some fish. I think there's some beer left, too."
I picked up my board and smiled down at her, shaking off the mood. "OK, but you're not going to get any beer, chick-you get bashed too fast."
Her thin, childish laughter echoed along the beach. "What's wrong? Am I a sorry piece of ass when I'm bombed?"
I put my arm around her shoulders and pulled her toward me as we walked toward the path. "Janie, you're never a sorry piece of ass. You're the best, each time and always."
She stopped, putting her arm around my waist, and her smile was slightly tense as she looked up at me. "If it's so good, maybe you'd like some now. Right here and now, before we go to the van."
I looked down at her slender body, at the molded curves of her hips and thighs, and at the dimples in the top of her bikini where her nipples thrust out against the flimsy fabric, and I nodded as I dropped my board to the sand. She dropped hers and put her hands behind herself, unfastening the top of the bikini.
She found the undercurrent three days later. The wind had calmed and the skies had cleared, and the surf was rolling in with a clean, moderately high triple break. Janie and I had been surfing for a couple of hours, and Loeffler came over the hill from the van, having returned from a fishing trip down the beach. He had a bar of wax with him, and he showed Janie how to pile up a good layer of wax on the surface of her board while I ran a couple more sets. Then I came out of the swash after the last set and got the wax from him, and Janie began playing about in the swash while I sat and waxed my board. I saw her diving into the shore-break, but it meant no more to me than her other antics and capers in the surf. She dived into it and rolled back out into the swash, and occasionally I glanced at her, enjoying a quiet pleasure from the smooth symmetry and beauty of her young body as well as a sensual tug from remembering the night before and anticipating the night to come. Loeffler touched my shoulder, standing, and I looked. Janie had disappeared. Seconds slipped by, then they began to drag, each one an eternity of apprehension. I dropped my board and the wax to the sand, and in the same instant Loeffler jumped over his board. We raced toward the water, the sand spurting from under our feet, fear making the mad dash effortless. Just as we broke into the swash and began leaping through it in long jumps, she appeared over the crest of the shore-break, her small body a splash of color in the oily green of the water and the dirty white of the foam.
The salt water she had ingested came out easily without choking her, and I sat on the sand with her small body on my lap, Loeffler kneeling by us and looking at her face. She looked at the boiling surf, her mind still under the tons of green water in the swirling fury of the maelstrom which lurked in hidden silence below the surface. The blank, vacant hopelessness in her eyes tugged at my memory, then I recalled where I had seen it before; it had been in the faces of young soldiers walking slowly under the burdens of the dead and wounded after their first night patrol in Vietnam. I spoke to her and shook her, putting my hand under her chin and turning her face up toward mine, but her eyes remained blank and she didn't reply or respond. When I released her chin, she slowly turned her face back toward the water. The blankness in her eyes was somehow more awful than the most horror-stricken gaze, somehow more distraught than the wildest of frenzies. Loeffler's hand moved in a short arc, and her head bounced against my chest as he slapped her solidly. Her eyes became wide, then she looked up at me with a trickle of blood welling from the side of her mouth. Her features crumbled, and she began crying in long, hard, shaking convulsions which wracked her entire body. She put her arms around my neck as I picked her up and started toward the van with her, and Loeffler gathered up the boards to follow us.
From all outward appearances, she was completely over it in a couple of days, but I could detect a subtle change in her personality. She was passionate, clinging to me and demanding the utmost from my manhood, and she was somewhat more given to thoughtful silences when she thought she was unobserved. There was an initial reluctance to commit herself to the water as she had before, but that seemed to disappear and her former freedom and gracefulness returned to her after a few sets on her board. But I had changed too, and I had to fight myself to keep from being too protective about her, to keep myself from trying to limit her in her search for herself in the booming surf. It felt strange to be worried and concerned about someone except myself, but I gradually became accustomed to it after a few days.
Then we became more than lovers as our souls touched and embraced, and in her precocious womanhood she made me become more than myself. The days were once more an eternity long with the golden seconds pausing to be savored before they passed into oblivion and the nights were timeless between us in the blissful heights of love.
Chapter Eight
We remained in the same spot for just over three weeks, which was something of a record for us, then we moved on down the coast to Alvarez to get some money up for a few things we needed. The van was overdue an oil change and needed a tune-up, and we were almost out of money for food, so it took several days of odd jobbing around to get enough to take care of everything. I got a job as temporary help in a speed shop parts store, Loeffler washed dishes and bussed at a combination restaurant and drive-in, and Janie hopped cars at the same place. The usual problems with a chick who looked as good as Janie cropped up with the guys who came into the drive-in, but Loeffler took care of her and kept her from being hassled while she was being hustled. I knew the rap to work with kids dolling up their cars and I might have been able to get on somewhere permanently if I'd wanted, but the nine until seven drag always became unbearable to me after a few days.
I kept at it and worked hard because the speed shop had a small maintenance area in the rear which the owners-both of them drag enthusiasts-used to work on their cars. They let me use it during after hours to pull the maintenance on the van, and I also got all the parts and materials out of the shop at a discount, which saved a few dollars.
Like any speed shop, there were a few steadies which hung around all the time to drive their mouths about cars they'd owned, cars they planned to own, and women. They were tolerated for the appearance of activity and business they gave and for the few dollars they passed on every now and then. There were also the steady customers, one of whom was a kid of seventeen or so whose old man had been a well known local race driver. From conversation I picked up, the kid's old man-a guy named Foresman-had been killed a couple of years before in a track accident. The kid's mother had money from her family, but she wasn't too enthusiastic about the kid's buying speed equipment because she didn't want him on the tracks. The kid's name was Skip, and from what he bought he seemed to be doing body and suspension work on some kind of old Chevy. He was a quiet, polite kid, and I didn't mind helping him or going out of my way to be sure he got what he needed when he came in.
He came in after school on a rainy Wednesday afternoon and asked for the engine catalog, then stood at the end of the counter and slowly leafed through it. A half dozen of the usual crowd of track bums were in the place, and business was so slow that the regular clerk had taken the pickup across town to the parts warehouse to restock a day ahead of time for the weekend business. It was a dull, boring day with the slow patter of rain against the plate glass windows and the weak gleam of headlights as the few afternoon shoppers drove in and out of the shopping center where the speed shop was located. The track bums had run out of jokes and stories, and they were lounging around the coke machine sitting on the battered folding chairs and on the floor. "Going to buy yourself an engine, Skip?" one of them asked the kid.
He glanced up from the catalog, smiling politely and shrugging noncommittally, then looked back at the catalog and turned another page.
"Skip's old lady will never give him the money to buy an engine," another of the bums chuckled.
"With the money Skip's old lady could give him, he should forget the engine," another one said. "If I had her money, I wouldn't worry about anything."
One of them named Leggett stood up and yawned, stretching, then dropped a couple of coins in the coke machine. "If I just had Skip's old lady, I wouldn't worry about anything. Not for a while, at least."
I was filing a pile of changes in one of the parts catalogs, and I glanced at the kid; his face was flushed, he was biting his lips, and the page he was holding was trembling from the angry tremor in his hand as he looked down at it.
What's she like?"
"A living, breathing doll," Leggett replied as the coke rattled down the chute of the machine. "She's been out there in that ten room house by herself for about two years now, and I guess she could keep a guy busy for a while."
That provoked general laughter, and the kid's face flushed even darker. If they'd been baiting him it wouldn't have bothered me as much, but I got the feeling that the conversation would have been the same if he hadn't been there; they weren't even according him the dignity of being a human.
"She hasn't been going out with anyone or anything?"
Leggett shook his head as he took long swallows from the can of coke, then he belched and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Doesn't even hardly leave the house, and it's a pure waste as far as I'm concerned-"
"Stop mouthing Skip's old lady."
They all turned and looked at me, and Skip shot me a grateful glance. Leggett sucked at his teeth and shook the coke can, his lips curling in a sneer. "What's it to you, Harrison? And what business is it of yours who I talk about?"
"I'm making it my business, Leggett. Run your mouth all you like, but stop running it on the kid's old lady."
He took another long drink of the coke and belched loudly, still sneering. "Fuck you, Harrison. No fucking surf bum's going to tell me what to talk about."
Cold, hard anger gnawed at me. The days of grimly persevering in the nine to seven misery had frayed my patience, and I'd felt a vague, remote dislike for Leggett from the first moment I'd seen him. He was good sized but soft and flabby, and he had a big mouth. "OK, Leggett, get your ass out of here."
He laughed and tossed the coke can into the trash can by the coke machine, then planted his hands on his hips. "I don't know what your hangup in this is, Harrison, but you can still kiss my ass. If you feel big enough, you can try to throw my ass out."
His sneering smile disappeared as I put one hand on the catalog and vaulted effortlessly across the counter, and he glanced wildly around as I walked toward him. There was a bin of tools on special near him, and he snatched up a short pinch bar from the pile of tools. "Come on, motherfucker," he hissed, crouching and shaking the short steel bar. "Come on and put my ass out of here."
I glanced at the others; they had moved back out of the way, and they apparently wanted no part of it. Leggett was planted too firmly and had his feet too far apart to move from one side to the other, and I was watchful but confident as I advanced toward him, my hands at chest level and relaxed and open. He got a better grip on the pinch bar and spread his feet even wider as I approached him, then I feinted at his stomach with a stiffened hand. He over-reacted, swinging the pinch bar in a long, painfully slow arc, and I moved back out of the way as I shot a quick kick into the soft flesh just below his rib cage with my left foot. He grunted and stumbled to one side, then his face flushed crimson and he lumbered toward me with an angry, pained expression on his face, swinging the bar wildly. I slid to one side and drove my stiffened right hand into his midriff, feeling the ends of my fingers digging deep into paunchy, flabby muscles. He folded, retching, and I slammed three solid blows into his kidneys with my fists as he crumpled to the floor.
The brown, foaming coke and partially digested bits of food gushed from his slack mouth as he undulated in convulsions on the floor. I bent over him and tossed the pinch bar back into the tool bin, then I took him by one wrist and dragged him toward the door. The wind was driving the rain under the awning in a fine, misty spray, and the cool, fresh air felt pure and clean against my face as I dragged him out the door and dumped him on the sidewalk. The others were edging out the door as I turned to go back in, and I waited for them to get out. A couple of them pulled Leggett to his feet, and supported him as they helped him toward his car.
"I appreciate that, Jim," the kid said as I walked back in. "I didn't know what to do, and I was afraid that I'd look silly if-"
"Forget it, Skip. Leggett gets under my skin too, and I was looking for a reason to put him down." I went around the end of the counter and pushed the rest room door open, then I picked up the bucket and began filling it with water. "You'll run into guys like that all your life, and you'll find that they're all bullshit and air-one good punch puts them down for the count."
He walked around the counter and reached into the rest room for the mop, then he held out his hand for the bucket. "Here, let me do that-the least I can do is mop up where he puked."
I shook my head. "No, I can-"
"No, let me do it. Please let me do it, Jim."
I nodded and handed him the bucket as I turned the faucets off. "Thinking about buying an engine, then?" I asked to change the subject.
"If my mother will let me," he puffed, walking around the counter with the bucket and mop. "I'd like to get a four twenty seven. I have a '67 sedan, and it's all fixed up except the engine."
"That's a lot of engine. Is it for the street?"
He nodded, dipping the mop in the bucket, then he began mopping the floor. "Mom would never let me put a car on the track-not right now, anyway. Maybe when I'm a few years older I can do it if I want to, but I won't be able to if I don't know something about it."
"Do you want to race like your dad did?"
"I don't know. I just know that I want to be able to if I decide that I really do want to. Does that make sense?"
"I guess so, Skip. If it makes sense to you, that's all that really matters."
"How long would it take to get a four twenty seven?"
"A day or two. We could get one sent up from the re-builder at Santa Ana."
He stopped mopping and straightened up, looking at me. "Would you help me put it in, Jim? I'd pay you. I mean, if mom lets me have the money for it, I'll have all the money I need to go all the way. Money's not a big thing with her."
I shrugged. "Sure, if I'm around, Skip. I might not be around too much longer, though."
He nodded, turning his head to one side with a nauseated expression as he wrung the mop in the bucket. "OK, I'll try to talk mom into it tonight. If I can, I'll come by and talk to you about it tomorrow."
"OK. Want me to finish that?"
"No, I'll do it. Do you want me to dump the water out on the sidewalk or in the sink?"
"Better dump it into the sink. Someone'll piss and moan about it if we dump puke on the sidewalk."
He finished mopping the floor, and I sprayed a can of air freshener around to take away the sour smell of vomit. He glanced through the catalog again and we chatted for a few minutes, then he left. I told the regular clerk what had happened when he returned from the parts warehouse, and he went into the back office to telephone one of the owners and tell him about it. From what he said when he came back out of the office, the owner wasn't very happy about what had happened and he was going to try to get in contact with Leggett to get his side of the story.
Both of the owners were in the next day, and from all appearances neither of them was very happy about what had happened. They didn't offer to chew my ass about it and I didn't find out the results-if any-of the conversation with Leggett, but the atmosphere around the shop was frigid while they were there. I thought about checking it and telling them to shove it, but it would have meant looking for another job for the three or four more days of work I figured we needed to do my share toward building a bankroll. Skip came in during the late afternoon, and he was bubbling over with elation; his mother had OKed the engine. I telephoned the re-builder in Santa Ana to place the order, and they promised delivery on the next day. The kid offered me a flat three hundred to help him put it in, and at first I told him that three hundred was simply too much. He insisted and even wanted to pay me in advance at the same time he paid for the engine, and I finally agreed to take the three hundred for the job when it was completed.
The following day there was another guy in to check out on the job, a cousin or something of one of the owners. He was so stupid that the idea of trying to check him out on the parts catalogs and binning procedures was laughable, and the regular clerk was spastic over it. The owners were in later in the day, and there was a long, loud conference between them and the regular clerk in the back office. They didn't change their minds, and when the conference broke up the regular clerk told me that the following day would be the last day on the job for me. He didn't like it, but he had apparently argued against the new man right up to the point of being fired himself and he couldn't do anything about it. It really didn't make a shit to me, because I'd have more than enough money when I got the three hundred for helping Skip install the engine in his car.
Skip's engine came in by motor freight at about two, and Skip was there at three. He went after a rental truck, and I used a mobile A-frame to help him get the crate onto the bed of the truck. After he paid for the engine, he hung around the shop to talk with me about getting it in, and the regular clerk got tired of his excited chatter. Business was slow and the clerk was having plenty of heartburn in trying to get the owner's relative up to speed so he could at least find the part number for a carburetor air filter, so he told me to book and help the kid with his engine.
When I'd heard the talk about the kid's mother's money, I'd more or less assumed that she had something in the way of an inheritance from her family and her dead husband's insurance and was well off, but when I first saw the house I began revising my estimates upward. It was a massive brick house on two or three acres in the most exclusive residential area in the city, a showcase even among other houses which had cost well over a hundred thousand. Skip drove the truck into the circular drive and turned off onto a smaller road which led around to the rear of the house, where he had his workshop. The workshop was of fairly recent construction, a small, neat, frame building on a cement slab and concealed from the house by a row of tall hedge, and it had been designed and built specifically to be a workshop. The double doors at one end provided access for vehicles up to the size of a small truck, and inside the overhead banks of fluorescent's made the neat racks of tools gleam. He had everything, including hydraulic body jacks, welding equipment, power equipment, and a covered grease pit, and I began to feel considerably less guilty about taking the three hundred to help him.
The work on the '67 body was completely professional, and it was well set up with rack and pinion steering, mags, and a Geissler box and rear end. We used a portable A-frame and a block and tackle to get the engine crate off the truck, then we put it on a small dolly and pushed it into the workshop. He was ready to break it out of the crate and put it in the car as rapidly as possible, but I slowed him down and we began taking it down for a complete check to be sure it was all right. It had the 427 decal on the rocker arm covers, but decals cost a dime each and I wanted to measure the stroke and bore to be sure he had the engine he'd paid for. It was getting late by the time we'd checked that, and we began putting things away for the night. He planned on returning to do his homework as soon as he'd taken me back to the speed shop, and during our conversation on getting together the following night I mentioned that I might not be working at the speed shop for very much longer. He gave me an extra key to the workshop, telling me that if I wanted to I could come during the day to work on getting the engine into the car.
One of the owners was in the shop when I went in the next morning, and he fired me as soon as I came in. He said he'd been in at closing time the night before and I hadn't been there, and even though the regular clerk kept trying to tell him that he'd been responsible for my leaving, the owner wouldn't listen. I shrugged it off and took my wages in cash, then booked.
It was about ten or so when I got to Skip's house, and I drove on around to the workshop. Skip had worked on the engine instead of doing his homework as he was supposed to have done, and he had run into trouble trying to route the exhaust pipe into place. I could have told him that the exhaust and tail pipe would all have to be rerouted because the customized suspension had put all the channels and holes out of alignment. It was also sort of putting the cart before the horse, so I pulled all the pipe sections out of the way and began aligning the engine mounts.
I had been working about an hour on the car when the small door at the side of the workshop swung open, and I looked up. It was a woman. There was a strong familial resemblance between her and Skip, and I remembered Leggett's comments; there had been some basis for them, because she was a living, breathing doll. She was within a year or two of forty, which made her several years older than I am, but the years had been kind to her. Her long, raven black hair was piled up on top of her head in a casually loose bundle, and she had the alabaster, almost startling white complexion that dark haired people sometimes have. She was about five six or seven and a hundred and twenty or so, with a beautifully developed body. Her features were strikingly beautiful and her eyes were large, dark, and liquid, but I could immediately detect an air of reserve about her, a withdrawn aloofness. "Are you Mr. Harrison? I'm Clarissa Foresman."
"Yeah, I'm Jim Harrison. Glad to meet you."
"Well, I'm certainly glad to meet you finally, Mr. Harrison," she replied, walking toward me with a polite smile. "Skip has told me all about you."
I straightened up from the inside of the engine compartment. "It hasn't been all bad, I hope."
She blinked slowly her cool smile undisturbed. "It has, in fact, been very much to your credit, Mr. Harrison-"
"How about calling me Jim? I keep wanting to look over my shoulder to see who you're talking to."
The smile slipped a fraction then returned. "Very well, Jim, and please call me Clarissa. How is the car coming along?"
"Well, we have everything we need, I guess. It should be ready to go in a day or two-Skip's already finished the body, and that was most of the work."
"Did Skip tell you that he'd done the work?"
I started to reply, stopped myself and thought for a moment, then shrugged. "No, as a matter of fact, he didn't-I more or less assumed that he had. Now that you mention it, it does seem to be too professional for Skip unless he knows more than I gave him credit for."
"His father did it. He's been after me to let him finish it for some time now, and ..."Her voice faded away, and she glanced around the workshop, shrugging. "Well, I suppose I just got tired of arguing." She looked up at me, and her smile was gone. "I expect that you're going to tell me that I should be proud that he wants to finish something his father started."
"You expect wrong. I can appreciate your reservations over Skip's having a hot car."
The barrier of impersonality was bridged for an instant as she looked up at me thoughtfully. "I'm surprised to hear that. From what Skip told me about you, I'd have thought that you'd be of the opinion that I should let him race. I've been trying to channel his interests into other areas, but I haven't been very successful, I'm afraid. Perhaps he'd listen to you and you could help me-"
"I said that I could understand your reservations-I didn't say that I agreed with them."
"But surely you can see that he would have a broader and more productive life if he finished his education and went into a professional field instead of confining himself to something like racing cars."
"I guess you're asking for my opinion, so I'll give it. I think he should be allowed to do his own thing, whatever that might be."
Her lips tightened, and an angry sparkle came into her eyes. "That's about what I might have expected of a surf bum," she snapped.
It stung, deeply. Angry resentment boiled up within me, screaming to voice itself and assault her in the artificial measures she had constructed in her mind to measure people, the arbitrary and unfair criteria she used to judge me and find me wanting because I'd turned my back on it all in open invitation for the whole world to kiss my ass. It was the same narrow outlook and tunnel vision I'd found in liberal professors who mouthed equality even as they pointed toward the dead, obsolete, and static as art while ignoring the music of the streets and the poetry on the alley walls. The pain was intense, a gnawing hurt which was almost intolerable because I had left myself wide open and vulnerable, and while I yearned for Janie as an escape my hands reached for the bolts and wrenches to tear my consciousness away from the raw injury inside me. I bent over the fender of the car and began putting one of the engine mounts into place, my fingers moving automatically without conscious direction. She remained for a moment; she cleared her throat once and made a couple of small, sub-vocal sounds preliminary to speech, but she didn't speak. Presently she left.
* * *
"Mr. Harrison, I'm very sorry for what I said. Will you please accept my apology?"
I hadn't heard her enter, and I almost jumped at the sound of her voice. An hour had passed since she left, and the time had passed numbly by without being noticed as I prepared the car for the engine. "Forget it," I said, shrugging.
"No, I can't forget it, because it was an unkind and unfair thing to say to you. Will you forgive me?"
I stopped twisting the wrench and looked up at her, then slowly nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I will. Normally I wouldn't, but I guess I can understand what you've been going through trying to do the right things with Skip. You love him and you want to make him happy, yet you're not always sure how far to go in what direction between doing the right thing and the thing to make him happy." I looked back down at the wrench and began turning it again. "I guess a situation like that is hard to live with, and it makes you need to lash out at things sometimes."
"I suppose you accepted my apology, but now you've made me feel even worse. You are a very understanding person, aren't you?"
"I have my own drumbeat, but it's not so loud in my ears that I can't hear someone else's. I might not want to march to it, but I can hear it sometimes."
There was a moment of silence, broken only by the metallic clicking of the ratchet I was using, then, "Would you like to come to the house and have some lunch with me?"
Pains of hunger were beginning to gnaw in my midriff, but I shook my head. "No thanks-I'm not hungry."
"You're still angry at me, aren't you?"
I stopped turning the wrench again and looked up at her. "No, I'm not mad. I'm afraid of you, Clarissa. You hurt me, and I'm afraid of you."
It was almost as though I had struck her across her face, and she even took a step backwards as her eyes became wide and shocked and her lips opened slightly. Her reserve dropped completely, and we were suddenly two people in intimate, unspoken communication through our eyes. She struggled with herself, fighting the isolated, lonely person inside who was feeding with starved hunger upon the warm togetherness with another person, then she turned away from me, clearing her throat and shrugging to collect herself. She started to turn back toward me, then she stopped herself and walked toward the door. "I'll be back in a moment," she murmured in a low, trembling voice.
She returned about thirty minutes later, and I was lifting the engine over the compartment on the block and tackle. The door rattled slightly as she closed it behind herself, and I ignored her as I slowly let the rope pay out through the pulleys. She saw that I couldn't be disturbed, and she silently stood by the door as I turned the engine from side to side with one hand and controlled the rope with the other, letting it inch down. The front springs slowly compacted as the weight of the engine settled down on the mounts, then I breathed a slow sigh of relief as I stepped back from the car and wiped my hands on a rag; the mounts had been positioned perfectly, and the holes were in precise alignment.
"I was sure you're hungry, so I made a picnic lunch," she said, lifting the basket slightly.
The poise and reserve had returned, and her smile was cool and unruffled as she looked up at me. "OK, if you'll eat with me."
"I planned to-I haven't eaten lunch yet either."
I went into the small washroom and washed the grease from my hands as she spread a cloth on a workbench by the wall and pulled a couple of folding chairs over, and I felt ravenous as I came back out of the washroom and looked at the food she was putting out; it was chicken and potato salad, one of my favorites.
"This looks good," I said, sitting down on one of the chairs.
"I hope it tastes good. It's what I cooked for Skip for dinner yesterday, and he hardly ate any of it. It wasn't very flattering, but I suppose he was so excited about his car that he couldn't think of anything else."
"I'd have thought you'd have a cook."
"I do, but I frequently cook for Skip. I enjoy cooking for him."
I bit into a piece of the chicken and chewed it, then nodded appreciatively. "He should enjoy eating what you cook-this is good."
"Thank you." She took a bit of chicken and chewed reflectively, looking in the direction of the car without seeing it, then she looked back at me. "Jim, after the comment I made a while ago, I realize that I have no right to ask for your opinion on anything, but I really would like to know if you think I'm being too protective with Skip."
"It doesn't look as though you are right now-you let him get the engine for the car."
"Does that mean that I might have been in the past?"
"I don't know. I think he might be better off if he would be a little more outspoken, but everyone's different."
"He told me what happened at the place where you worked. It was very good of you to help him that man must have been very disgusting."
"He was, but I can't disagree with his general comment that you're a very attractive woman."
A hint of color came into her pale cheeks, and her eyes fell to the floor. It took only a second for the self-possessed smile to return to her face, and she looked back up at me. "Well, that's certainly a compliment, Jim, considering that you're very near Skip's age."
"Don't be patronizing, Clarissa. I'm not Skip, and I'm not near his age-I'm a hell of a lot older than him, and older in a number of ways."
She looked away again, taking small bites from a piece of chicken and chewing slowly, and after a moment, she nodded. "Yes, I suppose you are, Jim. I imagine that you were older than Skip even when you were his age."
"I was in the Army."
"Really? Were you in the Army long?"
"Seven years. The war stopped, so I got out."
"Do you have any plans of any sort?"
"Yeah, I'm going to surf until I'm too old, then I'm going to die."
She looked up at me with a thoughtful expression, then she sighed and smiled wryly. "In a way that's a shame, Jim, because I really believe you're the sort of man who could do anything he wanted. On the other hand, though, it may be somehow the right and correct thing for you to simply roam from place to place as the mood strikes you. You're a very enigmatic man, Jim Harrison, and I'm glad I met you."
"I'm glad I met you too, Clarissa, for a couple of reasons. For one, you're a woman in a million and I'll never forget you, and for another I think that you needed someone to talk with for a while."
She looked down at the floor again as a dark flush spread over her cheeks, and she slowly nodded. "You're right, Jim. I was lonely, and ...and, well Skip isn't ... doesn't provide total companionship."
The words seemed to almost but not quite provide for a deeper interpretation, and I didn't want to push it so I didn't reply. We finished eating in silence, then I helped her put the scraps, paper plates, and the cloth back into the basket. "Well, I should have brought something for dessert, I suppose," she said in a light tone, closing the top of the basket.
"Sure you didn't?"
She looked at me quizzically, and I leaned over and kissed her lightly on her lips. I kept it short, easy, and friendly, and she looked up at me with an unreadable expression as I took my lips from hers and looked down at her. Her face broke into a wry smile, and the edges of her white, even teeth were visible between her lips. "If you call that a kiss, I'm disappointed in you, Jim."
She was hesitant and battling with herself again, but the challenge in her eyes was unmistakable. I put my hands on her shoulders and pulled her to me, bending my head and putting my lips on hers. Her breath was a soft, warm breeze against my cheek as I pulled her lips inside mine, brushing them with the tip of my tongue, and her breath came harder against my cheek as I wrapped my arms firmly around her and held her to me. There was a quiver of tension in her body as her lips moved under mine, sucking and pulling at mine, then her lips opened wide against mine. Our tongues met between our open mouths, touching and caressing, and her slender arms crept around my neck as our tongues entwined and pulled at each other. She opened her mouth wider, pushing her tongue into my mouth, and I forced my tongue past hers and far into her mouth. She closed her mouth on my tongue and sucked at it, turning her head from side to side, and I flattened my hands on her back, feeling her warm, soft flesh and the urgent trembling from the battle which was raging within her.
Her face was crimson and her expression was taut and strained with the conflict between need and rejection as she wriggled from my arms and snatched up the basket. There was a swirl in the skirt of her dress as she turned toward the door, almost running to it, and the vacant, hungry throbbing of frustration filled me as I looked at the quick movement of her beautiful body, the glimpse of her thigh and the graceful swing of her hips. Then the door slammed behind her, and I turned back to the car.
She couldn't stay away. It was a little after one o'clock when the hinges on the door squeaked again, and I glanced toward the door to see the loose, flowing movement of the cuffs of flared slacks. She had changed from the print dress she had been wearing to slacks and a sweater, and from what I could see from my position under the car the change had been for the good. The waistband of the slacks hugged her hips just below the swelling curve where her tiny waist flared out to her hips. The fabric also clung to her thighs, outlining their smooth curve, and the sweater outlined the tapering lines of her slender chest and the thrusting bulge of her breasts. I was on my back on the creeper under the car and I couldn't see her face, but the sight of her body made the dull, hungry ache within me flare to a fiery pang of desire.
Her hands moved restlessly, touching her slacks and tugging at the waistband then clasping each other. She waited for a moment for me to notice her, and when I didn't she knelt by the car and looked under it. "Jim?"
"Oh, hi, Clarissa."
"How is it coming along?"
"Well, the transmission doesn't line up the way it should. We're going to have to do some shaving and shimming."
"Oh?"
I put my hands against the frame and pushed the creeper back out under the front bumper, then I stood up, wiping my hands on a rag. "Yeah. I think I'll wait until Skip comes home from school to start it-I'll need help, and it's something he might need to know how to do some time."
"Could I help you?"
I laughed and shook my head. "No, not beyond moral support. You look nice in slacks and sweater-are you going out or something?"
"I must have looked sloppy before for you to ask that. Sometimes it seems to be so much trouble to take care of myself. I never go out, I have very few friends here, and ... well, you know."
"You didn't look sloppy, but I can understand how you feel. It's a shame, though-you should develop some interests."
"Oh, I have interests. I have-"
"You have Skip, and that's all. It's enough now, but he's going to grow up and he's going to get married or just move away by himself, and then the only thing you'll have is waiting until it's time to die. That's what's a shame, Clarissa. You're a beautiful, wonderful person, and you're cheating yourself."
I looked into her eyes as I talked, and her eyes were open and searching as they looked back into mine. I saw her need and she saw my desire for her, but she was reluctant, hesitant to commit herself. Her eyes dropped from mine, and she clasped her hands together in front of her as she looked down at the floor. "You don't know how things are ... I mean, it's been so long since I've really even talked to anyone, and ... there's been more personal communication between us today than I've experienced for years with anyone except Skip ... it isn't easy to just turn loose ... people can be so hostile and cruel, as I was with you, and I'm afraid ..."
I started to move toward her, then stopped myself, brushing at my shirt with the rag. "If you keep on talking that way, Clarissa, I'm going to get grease all over you."
"Christ, as if that made any difference," she sighed, tugging at me and putting her arms around me as she put her head against my chest. "If the hurt that people can inflict were only as easy as grease to wash off ..."
I still wasn't sure where it was all leading as I put my arms around her and buried my face in her long, thick hair, breathing in the delicate, alluring scent of her perfume and her body. My hands were on her back, feeling her soft body and warm, smooth skin under her sweater, and I gripped myself firmly to control the impulse to feel and squeeze her all over. She sighed deeply, and I could feel her small, cool hands moving up and down my back, caressing me gently. "You're trembling, Jim," she murmured.
"I want you, Clarissa. I want you more than I've ever wanted anyone."
She stiffened and her hands stopped moving on my back. A moment passed, then she sighed again. "Must it always come to that?"
I shook my head, moving my lips down to her soft throat. "No, it doesn't," I whispered, my lips against her skin. "When two people pass each other along their separate ways, they don't even have to look at each other. But sometimes they look and sometimes they touch, and sometimes they're both better off for it. I'm holding out my hand to you, Clarissa, and you don't have to take it. But I think it would be good between us-I think it would be something meaningful."
An endless moment passed, then a thrill passed through me as I felt her head move fractionally against my chest in a nod. "Please be patient with me, Jim, and please be gentle ... it's been a long time ..."
The anticipation of having her alluring body was a triumphant chorus which throbbed in every fiber of my body as our lips met, and there was a token of submission in the way she held her head as she opened her mouth wide for my tongue. I thrust my tongue into her mouth, sliding it in until the tip of my tongue was at the back of her throat and her mouth was gorged with the thick shaft of my tongue, and the sweet taste of her saliva was warm in my mouth as she sucked and nibbled at my tongue. She pressed herself against me, and I slowly moved one hand around to cup one of her breasts. Her breath stirred against my cheek as she stiffened and gave a small start, then she relaxed again in my arms and moved her lips on mine with damp, clangorous tugs as I kissed her and felt her breast through her sweater and bra. Our breath became short from our passionate kiss and embrace, and I looked down at her beautiful face as she looked down at the floor, trembling and breathing in long, deep pants. "Come on, Jim," she whispered, taking my hand from her breast and holding it between hers as we moved toward the door.
The sunshine seemed brighter and more golden and the singing of the birds in the trees seemed angelically sweet as we walked along the path toward the house. I sensed that she was still doubtful and hesitant but determined to see it through; her lips were in a firm line, pressed tightly together, and her eyes didn't meet mine until we were at the back door. She opened the door and looked up at me with a searching, penetrating gaze, and what she saw seemed to satisfy her; a quiet smile spread across her face, and she quietly opened the door.
She was shy, too timid to expose her naked body to my ravenous glare, and after we crept quietly up the stairs to her bedroom she closed the blinds and turned off the lights. I pulled at my clothes and dropped them on the floor in a pile as I looked at the soft blur of her figure across the room by the bed. Her alabaster skin was a dim whiteness as she undressed and piled her clothes on a chair, then there was a soft sound from the bed as she pulled the covers back and got into it. My cock stood straight out in front of me in a trembling, hard erection as I walked toward the bed.
I got into bed, reaching toward her, and she crept into my arms. Desire for her escalated into a ravening hunger as I felt her naked, satiny skin with my hands, and I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her towards me and searching for her lips with mine. She flinched as her thigh touched my swollen cock, then she took a deep breath and deliberately pressed her thigh against it as she wrapped her arms around my neck. I traced the tip of my tongue around the edges of her teeth, then I slid it further into her mouth and she began sucking on it. A tense quiver raced through her slender body as I slid one hand up and cupped one of her breasts, and I became even more aroused as I fondled the velvety mound of flesh in my palm. She tightened her lips around my tongue and I began moving my head back and forth, sliding it in and out of her mouth, and she held her head still so I could fuck her in the mouth with my tongue as I felt her, moving my hands around on her warm, alluring body.
She gasped and panted for breath when our lips parted, and she put her lips close to my ear as she combed her fingers through my hair. "Would it make it better for you if you looked at me, darling? Do you want to see me?"
"Yeah, I want to see you, honey," I panted hoarsely.
She pulled away from me slightly, reaching toward the small lamp on the night stand by the bed, then the tiny bulb flicked on. She turned back and put her head on the pillow, lying on her back, and she closed her eyes as she turned her flushed face to one side. I pushed the covers down, and raw, hungry lust rose within me until it was almost throttling me as I looked at her beautiful body. Her brilliantly white skin was a perfectly smooth, silky sheen except for the two darker spots of her nipples and the triangle of curly black hair between her thighs. Her arms and shoulders were slender and delicate, her breasts were full and firm, jutting straight out from her tapering chest, and her soft stomach was almost completely flat, with only a small curve to accentuate the graceful swell of her full hips and thighs out from her tiny waist. Her curved thighs tapered down in smooth lines to her dimpled knees and firm calves, and each line of her breathtaking body seemed to be in complete proportion and harmony with every other line. I'd known that her body would be beautiful, but it was more perfect and desirable than any other woman I'd seen before.
She slowly turned her head on the pillow, looking up at me with her large, liquid eyes. "Am I beautiful, darling? Do you want me more now?"
Words failed me, and I could only utter a hoarse, gasping growl as I took her in my arms and buried my lips in the soft, warm flesh of her throat. She sighed deeply and pressed herself against me as she combed her fingers through my hair, and I slowly moved my mouth down to one of her breasts. She cupped it and held it up to my lips as I opened my mouth over it, then I closed my mouth on it and began sucking it. She whimpered in her throat as she wrapped her arms around my head and cradled it, and as I sucked the mound of flesh which had swollen to nourish her son's life, I moved my hand down to the place which had given him life. She spread her thighs apart so I could feel her pussy as my fingers toyed with the bun of hair below her flat stomach, and I slid my hand deep between her thighs, cupping her soft vulva in my hand and feeling it.
"You will be gentle with me, won't you, darling? Please don't become too ... ah, aroused and hurt me ... it's been a long time since I've made love, and ... it might hurt me ... please don't hurt me ..."
"I won't hurt you, honey-I promise I won't hurt you. I'll make you feel good."
"It'll feel good just to have ... just to have you in me ... I think I've wanted that more than anything I've ever wanted anything-aaaaaahhhhhhhh ..."
Her voice trailed off in a murmur of pleasure as I moved on down her body, trailing the tip of my tongue down her chest and her flat stomach, and she writhed with sensation as I probed the tip of my tongue into her navel, stabbing the tiny opening and fucking it with my tongue. She curled around on the bed and her hands moved over my shoulders and head with quick caresses, then she stiffened as I moved my mouth on down her body and began nibbling at the tuft of hair between her thighs. "Darling, you don't have to do that," she murmured. "You don't have to ... ah, arouse me, just as long as it's not really painful when you ... start to do it." Her fingers tightened on my shoulders, and her nails began biting into my skin as I trailed the tip of my tongue down her thigh, moving it from side to side. "Aaaaaahhhhhh, that's wonderful, darling, but you don't have to ... no, darling, you don't have to ... aaaahhhhhhhh ..."
She trembled all over from the sensations my tongue generated in her as I spread her thighs apart with my hands and moved my lips up and down the inside of them, flicking the tip of my tongue from side to side and nibbling at her silky skin. I moved up and down, coming closer to her pussy and moving back toward her knees, and she spread her thighs wide apart as she began writhing and moaning softly. Her hands groped for my cock, touched it, then she wrapped one of her hands around it and began squeezing and stroking it. "Darling, why don't you go ahead and ... why don't you do it now ... go ahead and do it now ... I want you to do it now ..." She drew in her breath with a sharp hiss as my lips brushed her vulva, and she spread her thighs apart, thrusting her hips up at me as every muscle in her body quivered. "... please do it now ... get on top of me and do it ... aaaaggggghhhhhh-oh, God, that's wonderful, darling ..."
I tugged gently at her vulva with my lips, then I stiffened my tongue and slowly dragged it through the crack in her vulva. She moaned wordlessly and clutched my cock and balls in her small hands as I titillated her with my tongue, and her clitoris raised into a small, hard nub as my tongue touched it. I flicked the tip of my tongue back and forth across her clitoris, and she moaned louder as she slid her thighs around my head and rolled over to face me in the 69 position. She kissed and mouthed at my cock and balls, fondling and feeling them, then a warm, numbing sensation gripped me and made the muscles in my thighs clench with tension as I felt the head of my cock slide into her mouth. She sucked at it and wrapped her tongue around it, then she squeezed my balls in one hand as she clutched the shaft of my cock in her other hand and began pressing her head down on it. The thick, swollen shaft slid between her lips until the head of it was pressing against the back of her throat, then she began rapidly sliding her head back and forth, fucking herself in the mouth with my cock. My hips began responding involuntarily, driving my cock between her beautiful lips, and her hips began moving in the same rhythm as she pressed her pussy toward my mouth.
Long moments passed as we lay facing each other in sensual delight, our entire being enveloped in the warm cloud of enjoyment, and every nerve in my body throbbed from the ecstatic sensation of my cock gliding into her hot, damp mouth as I stroked her clitoris with the tip of my tongue. Her initial timidity had completely evaporated, and she responded with the fiery eagerness of long months of sexual starvation. I felt a sudden overwhelming impulse to have my cock in her pussy, to sink it deep into her alluring body, and I began turning on the bed as I took my head from between her thighs. She immediately perceived what I wanted, and she let my cock slide from her mouth with a damp sound as she turned onto her back, spreading her legs apart.
Her face was crimson and tense with arousal, and she reached down with both hands to grasp my cock as I got between her thighs on my knees. She propped her feet on my thighs and clenched my cock as I held her pussy open with my fingers, then she wriggled her hips from side to side to position herself as she tugged on my cock, pulling it toward her. The tip of my cock slid between the lips of her pussy, and she lurched downward at me, taking it into her body. Her mouth opened wide and she uttered a low moan as it popped into her, and I trembled all over from the sensation as I looked down at her and put my hands on her widespread thighs, rocking my hips slightly to probe more of it into her.
She lay with her lips parted and her eyes closed, holding her legs wide apart, and quivering with sensation as I eased my cock further and further into her slender body. I looked down and watched my thick shaft sliding into her distended pussy, and my hips involuntarily began pumping faster and harder as the sight made the sensations within me flare to a greater intensity. Her pussy was tight and hot, almost feverish as it enveloped my throbbing cock, and I pressed harder as I drove my cock into her with long, rapid thrusts until it was sinking deep into her body. She began thrusting her hips up at me and undulating on the bed in long, rolling waves, and my cock speared into her up to the thick part of the shaft. It appeared that she was rapidly approaching the brink of an orgasm, and I began stroking her clitoris with the tip of my finger as I began fucking her more rapidly.
"...it's going to ...God, it's going to ...I'm going to ...oh, God, darling I'm going to have a ... I'm about to ... I'M COMING, I'M COMING, I'M COMING ...OH GOD, I'M COMING-AAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!
She exploded into the wild, uncoordinated movements of a climax, and I fell forward on top of her and gripped her buttocks in my hands as I drove my cock into her as rapidly as I could. She dug her fingernails into my back and tossed in the ecstatic convulsions as she wailed and moaned, then threw her arms and legs around me, gripping me with the strength of a vise. She was absolutely motionless except for a hard, muscular quiver which wrung her entire body, then she collapsed limply under me with a trembling wail. I kept driving my cock into her to force her completely through it, and she began protesting breathlessly when the sensations became too much for her. Then I lay on top of her with my cock still buried deep in her body as she gasped and panted for breath. Presently the wild racing of her heart moderated and she caught her breath, and she began combing her fingers through my hair as she kissed me softly on the side of my face. "That was beautiful, darling," she murmured. "It was wonderful, heavenly."
"It couldn't be anything else with us," I replied, moving my hips tentatively and inching my cock back and forth a couple of inches. "Ready for some more?"
"God, no," she gasped. "I couldn't-but I want you to finish it and have a climax, darling. Do you want to finish it this way, or ..."
"Get on your hands and knees, honey," I said, raising myself. "Let's do it that way."
She pushed her hair back from her face and nodded, turning onto her stomach, then she raised herself to her hands and knees. I crouched behind her and looked down at her beautiful, white body as I groped for her pussy with my fingers and cock, and she let her back sag in a deep curve as she reached back with one hand to help guide my cock back into her pussy. The head of it slid into her, and I put my hands on her waist as I began pressing it into her. She folded her arms and rested her head on them as she let her back sag deeper, and I fondled her hips and thighs as I looked down at my cock sliding in and out between her smooth, white buttocks.
At one moment I was reveling in the sensations of fucking her with a firm, durable erection which felt as though it would last for hours, and in the next moment I was gasping and grinding my teeth together in a vain effort to restrain the climax, to defer it a second at a time as I savored the sight and sensation of fucking her. Her entire body was writhing in front of me as she wriggled her hips from side to side, and I dug my fingers into her hips and gripped her as I continued to slam my cock into her body, the irresistible momentum within me making me fuck faster and faster. My control continued to erode, and the pressure of the orgasm was a smothering, crushing weight on me which felt as though it was squeezing the life from me. I teetered for an instant on the brink of the chasm, then the come broke through and the ecstatic sensation cast me toward the blissful heights as I lifted her knees all the way off the bed, my body writhing in convulsions. She uttered a small, glad cry when she felt it erupting into her, and she held herself absolutely still for me as I drove my cock into her with the come spurting from it. My knees began trembling and my strength began leaving me as the semen drained into her, and I slowly fell over on my side, twitching and still undulating within her. Her hips moved in slow, twisting movements, squeezing the last of the come from me.
Chapter Nine
Each day she brought lunch to the workshop, and each day we returned to the house to spend most of the afternoon in bed together. We were unusually well matched, both physically, mentally, and emotionally. The size of my cock and her pussy produced a maximum of sensation with no discomfort, we were both more concerned with the physical than the long range aspects of what we were doing, and we'd both lived within emotional isolation for long enough to keep the final end of our relationship from hurting. As it happened, Janie was having her period and didn't become suspicious, but there was still something in the back of my mind which bothered me. It was a couple of days before I managed to isolate it, and it shocked me. Janie had become to mean so much to me that I felt guilty.
Skip's car was finished, Loeffler and Janie quit their job, and we finally moved on. The small, gnawing voice within me became stilled, and Janie was pleasantly surprised by my consideration for her in the small presents and frequent compliments. An older, more experienced woman might have been suspicious, but Janie was simply pleased.
She was inordinately proud of our relationship and never missed a chance to parade the details of it before other women, particularly those a little older then she who envied the freedom of our lives in comparison with their drab jobs, continual arguments, and fights with neighbors. Each time we stopped at a grocery store or drive-in and there was another woman in sight or hearing, she would come out of the van in her bikini and put her arm possessively around my waist, smiling up at me and talking to me. The same impulse was probably the basis for wanting me to take her home and meet her mother, sister, and others she knew in Auburn. She didn't ask me to take her, but there was a series of hints which gradually became more pointed.
It was a long way from the beach, but I had no particular objection in view of the lack of concern she said her mother would have about her living with me. We were just north of Los Angeles when I decided that we might as well spend a few days in Auburn to satisfy her, and we worked our way up the coast, spending a day or two at each stop. The weather became bad all along the coast again, and after spending a miserable night huddling together inside the van we started inland. When we reached Highway 99 we went north to Sacramento, arriving there in late afternoon. It had been several hours since we'd eaten, and after we wound through the exchange between Highway 99 and I-80 east I began looking for a drive-in.
Commuter traffic was heavy on the freeway and each time I saw something which looked all right we were blocked in the center lane. We got on out of Sacramento on the Reno freeway, then we were only a few miles from Auburn and we decided to press on until we reached Janie's mother's place.
Auburn was a small city in the Sierra Nevada foothills dating from the days of the gold rush. There was a small tourist trade where visitors from the East bought souvenirs of the old West which had been bought in Sacramento hardware stores and artificially aged in plastic buckets of brine, and there was a small industry in supporting and maintaining the mountain cabins for the well to do out of Sacramento. Other than that, the population consisted of a few people who commuted to Sacramento and spent their money on gasoline instead of property taxes, and there were a few gasoline stations which provided an informal pawn service in holding jewelry a few days in exchange for a tank of gasoline for people coming back from Reno.
Janie had put on a new dress and a Maltese cross I'd bought for her in Santa Barbara, and she was leaning forward over the padded dash and occasionally glancing at me with a gleeful expression on her small face as she gave me directions. We drove along a small, rutted street which wound up into the small thicket of houses behind the freeway, then she pointed at a house, hopping up and down on the seat in excitement. It was a small frame house, with a battered compact station wagon and an old sedan parked in front of it. It needed paint, the yard was overgrown with weeds, and the picket fence around the front yard was sagging toward the ground in several places. Janie shoved the door open and bounded to the ground as I pulled the van to the side of the street, and she raced up the path toward the front door.
A woman opened the front door, staggered back under the impact of Janie's enthusiastic hug, then returned the embrace absent mindedly as she looked at Loeffler and I walking up the path. She was almost an older copy of Janie, about thirty-five or so, and not bad looking at all. She was wearing a thick dressing gown which made it difficult to see what kind of figure she had, but she seemed to have Janie's slender figure which had been developed and filled out by maturity. "Yeah, yeah, it's good to see you again, honey," she said, kissing Janie's cheek and patting her back.
"This is Jim, mom. Jim Harrison, my boyfriend. And this is Kurt Loeffler."
The woman raised her eyebrows in an amused, speculative smile, then laughed. "OK, hello, Jim-are you sure you're old enough to be Janie's boyfriend? Hello, Kurt. Come on in-come on in."
The inside of the house was about what I had expected from the outside. The furniture was old and battered, the housekeeping was indifferent, and there was a black and white TV muttering in the corner. A dark-haired woman of about eighteen or so was sitting in an easy chair and painting her fingernails, and her eyes met mine in an intense, analytical look for an instant as we entered. "Hello, Carol," Janie bubbled, rushing toward her, "gee, it's good to see you again."
The girl raised her cheek for Janie to kiss, pursing her lips in a token kiss, and her eyes met mine again. "It's good to see you, too, Janie-don't mess up my fingernails, honey. What have you been up to?"
"Yeah, what have you been up to, Jane?" her mother repeated. "Christ, I got up one morning and you'd booked without even leaving a note for me. For all I knew you might have been kidnapped or something-"
"You didn't report it to the police, did you?"
"Well, Christ, I didn't want to make a big deal about it, honey, and I figured that you'd be able to take care of yourself-"
"Hey, far out," Janie breathed in relief. "I thought for a minute that Jim and I might have the heat on us."
"Well, I don't mind sharing some of it with you, because the people from the school have been coming around here and giving me hell about your not showing up there. It's been a while since they've been around, though ... well, everyone, sit down-don't just stand in the middle of the room."
Loeffler eased himself cautiously into a frayed and sagging easy chair, Janie and I sat down on the old couch, and her mother sat down across the room from us in a straight kitchen chair. Carol began painting her nails again, glancing up and looking from one speaker to the other as Janie and her mother talked, and her eyes occasionally met mine. She didn't resemble either Janie or her mother, but she was an attractive woman with long, black hair and what appeared to be a moderately well developed, slender figure under the dressing gown she wore.
"... and if you get pregnant, you'll either have to take her to a doctor or you'll have to take the responsibility for it yourself. I've raised all the kids I intend to."
"I'll take care of Janie," I said to her mother, whose voice had broken in on my reverie about Carol. "And if she gets pregnant, I'll take care of that, too."
"Well, OK, as long as you do." She looked at Janie. "You know, it hurt me when you just made your break that way, honey. Christ, I still can't understand why you didn't at least leave a note for me ..."
"Oh, everything just seemed to stack up on me at once, mom. School and everything else-you know. I'm sorry if you were worried."
"Well, I was, Janie. You look all right, though a nice tan and everything, and that's a pretty dress you're wearing."
"Jim bought it for me-the dress and my cross. We've been living on the beach for weeks, and he's taught me how to surf."
"Well, it's good that he's buying things for you, because you don't have many clothes here now. You didn't write or send for them or anything, and that Susan Bayliss came down here a couple of weeks ago and offered me forty dollars for them. I wouldn't have taken it, except that I didn't have enough money to make the house payment that month ... you mean you just sleep on the beach?"
"No, we have a tent in the van, and we sleep in the van when it's raining. What do you mean by selling my fucking clothes?"
"Well, you apparently didn't need them and I needed the money, and anyway don't cuss at me, Janie."
"Yeah, don't cuss at mom, Janie," Carol chimed in.
"Well, it wasn't your fucking clothes she sold," Janie snapped at Carol, then she looked back at her mother. "Maybe I'll just go down and see that goddamned Susan and get them back."
"No," her mother replied firmly, shaking her head. "No, you won't do that, Janie." Janie started to interrupt her, but she raised her hand, shaking her head again. "No, listen to me. Now you've come here with your boyfriend and I've made him welcome even though he's old enough to be your father, and I'm not giving you any trouble about any of it. OK, so you can do the same for me-don't give me any trouble. If you don't want the heat on you and Jim, then don't start putting the heat on me and making an asshole out of me in front of the whole neighborhood."
"I'm a fucking amateur at that," Janie growled. "You do a better job of that then I'd ever be able to do."
"Don't give me any shit, either, because you're still my daughter. Have you had supper?"
Janie's face brightened. "No, we were going to get something in Sacramento, but the freeway was crowded, and ... what's for supper?"
"Nothing-I don't have anything in the house, but if you want to go get something I'll cook it."
"Kurt can go get something," I said. "What do you want?"
She shrugged. "Anything you want to eat-get some hamburger and potatoes, and I'll fix some hamburger steaks."
I tossed the keys to Loeffler, and he went out the door. "He doesn't talk much, does he?" Carol commented.
"He doesn't hardly talk at all," Janie replied, glancing at me. "I haven't heard him say anything-I don't even know what his voice sounds like."
"Is he deaf and dumb or something?" Janie's mother asked me.
I shook my head. "He just doesn't talk unless he has something to say, and he usually doesn't. He can talk when he wants to."
"Tell them what you were telling me when they came," Carol said to her mother.
She laughed, crossing her legs and folding the edge of her dressing gown over her knees. "I was telling Carol about a new massage program we have down at the parlor where I'm working now. I'm at the Therapy Palace now, down on Fruit-ridge, and I'm the assistant manager. We have this new girl who worked in a place down in Los Angeles where the big thing was a colonic massage spray-"
"What's that?" Janie asked.
Both Carol and her mother broke into laughter, and Janie glanced around at all three of us. "Jim, you're going to have to tell her a few things. It's a hose you stick up someone's ass to give them an enema. Didn't you know that?
"I know about butt fucking, if that's what you mean, but I didn't know that someone would pay to get their asshole washed out. There was this chick I met down in Frisco and we rode on the bus to San Jose together, and some guys we met at the bus station said they'd take us to a hostel. They got us in the car and tore out for the beach, and it was just lucky for me that they started on her first. One of them was butt fucking her-he just rammed it into her and took off. While they were making it with her I got away and ran into Jim-that's how we met."
Her mother was looking at her with a concerned frown, and Carol yawned as she put the top on the bottle of fingernail polish. "Well, that's the only way a guy is ever going to do that to me-by holding me down and doing it. One thing I don't need is a big cod in my butt."
"Oh, I don't know," Janie said smugly, wrapping her arms around mine. "It's not bad if you've met a guy who knows what he's doing."
Carol's mouth dropped open, and Janie's mother broke into laughter. "Well, I guess Janie told you, Carol. Anyway, we've got this colonic massage spray outfit now, but the pressure's adjustable, and one of the girls got it set too high for a customer she had. She said that she thought it was going to blow his ears off when she turned it on."
We all laughed, and when the laughter died away Janie began asking her mother about the people who lived around them, her interest centering mostly around girls of her own age. It was the conversation of anyone who returns to a small place where nothing happens and asks about those who drag out their lives in the deadly monotony of small town cliques, gossip, and petty jealousies. A couple of them had gone to Sacramento, one of them had married, and another had been sent by her parents to the drug rehabilitation center in Lexington. They talked for a while, then Loeffler returned with a couple of large bags and they went into the kitchen to cook.
After we had eaten Carol went out on a date and I relaxed in one of the easy chairs in the living room, dozing. Janie sat on my lap for a while, keeping me awake and hinting that she wanted to go see some of her friends in the neighborhood, and I told her to go ahead. Loeffler went out to the van and began cleaning it out, and I could hear Janie's mother in the kitchen as she moved around, putting away the dishes.
I was suddenly acutely aware that we were alone in the house when she came back into the living room, tightening the belt on her robe. "Tired?" she asked, stopping by the chair and looking down at me.
"What's your name? I can't call you mom."
"I don't want you to call me mom. My name's Edna."
"Yeah, I'm tired, Edna. I feel like I drove a thousand miles today."
She picked up my hand and tugged at it. "OK, come on and I'll give you a quickie rub." I stood up and followed her as she led me into one of the bedrooms. "You and Janie can sleep in here-it used to be her room. Your friend will have to sleep on the couch, though."
"That's fine-he won't mind it."
"OK, take off your clothes and lie on the bed."
She was an attractive woman, and I felt a surge of desire stir within me as I began taking my clothes off and she stood watching me with a neutral expression. Her eyes moved over my tanned body as I walked toward the bed, naked, and stretched out on it. I heard a whisper of fabric against her skin as she walked toward the bed, then the bed sagged under me as she got on it and a thrill of sensation shot through me as I felt her naked thigh against mine; she had taken the dressing gown off.
Her hands were warm and strong, and the sore, tight feeling began leaving my muscles as she stroked and wrung them. It was a pleasant sensation, but I couldn't divorce it in my mind from the fact that she was a woman, an attractive woman, and when her hands moved over the inside of my thighs it sent thrills of sensation racing through me. Her legs brushed against mine as she straddled me, leaning forward over me and massaging my back and shoulders, and my cock began expanding, stretching and swelling into a long, resilient tube between my legs.
"All right, turn over, Jim."
I rolled over and looked up at her as she knelt on the bed at my side. She was wearing only her bra and panties, and my cock began growing larger as my eyes became riveted to her body. She was beautiful, from her face which was enough like Janie's to cause a wrench of need within me, to her swelling breasts and the smooth curve of her hips. Her warm, strong hands began kneading one of my legs, and I looked at the firm, alluring curve of her buttocks as she bent over me. She knelt back down on her folded legs and turned toward me as her hands moved up my leg, and I put out one of my hands and ran it along her smooth, silky thigh as I looked at her filmy panties, where I could see the slightly darker color of her pubic hair.
"Looks like you have a problem, Jim."
She was looking down at me in calm understanding of my need, but it wasn't a straightforward situation between us. I moved my hand further down her thigh, sliding one of my fingers between her thighs and feeling her vulva, and she still didn't move. "Aren't you going to help me, Edna?"
She sighed and bit her lip, shaking her head slightly. "You're nice and I get it on with you, Jim, but I think that's Janie's problem."
I sat up and put my arms around her, tilting her face up toward mine, and she opened her lips for my tongue as our mouths met. Her breath fanned against the side of my face as I ran my hands up and down her naked back, kissing her, then I moved my tongue around in her mouth as I slid one hand down her stomach toward her panties. She pulled her panties open as I slid my hand into them, then she took her lips from mine with a sigh as I began combing my fingers through the bun of hair between her thighs. "All right, Jim, all right. Lie back down, and I'll ... well, I'll do something."
I stretched out on my back again, and she slid off the bed, putting her hands behind herself and unfastening her bra. "I just hope to God that Janie doesn't come back in while we're ... like this." She slid her panties down her legs and stepped out of them, and I felt a thrill of anticipation race through me as I looked at her beautiful, naked body. I sat up and held my arms out toward her as she walked back to the bed and she shook her head. "No, Jim, lie down. Lie down and I'll do it, and I want you to promise that you won't hold it back, OK? Janie's changed since she'd been gone, and I'm afraid that she'd scratch my eyes out if ..." She sat on the side of the bed and took my cock between her hands, then she suddenly leaned over it, opening her mouth wide and slipping it between her lips. She pressed it between her tongue and the roof of her mouth as she expertly stroked her head up and down a couple of times, then she let it slide from her mouth and traced the tip of her tongue around the head of it. "Is that good, baby?" she whispered, looking at me, her lips damp and shiny with saliva and her eyes glittering with sympathetic arousal.
"God, yes," I groaned. "God, yes, it's good."
She cupped my balls in one hand and squeezed them with a firm pressure which was just short of painful as she bent over my cock again, slipping it into her mouth and bobbing her head up and down with a firm, rapid motion. The sensation was ecstatic, making every muscle in my body writhe as thrills raced through me. She let my cock slide from her mouth again, then she climbed onto the bed and straddled me with a quick, lithe movement. The tip of my cock touched her vulva as she poised herself over it, and she worked my cock from side to side with her hand to spread her vulva apart as she lowered her weight onto it. There was a firm pressure on the tip of my cock, then it slipped into her pussy.
I groaned aloud from the sensation, and she hissed through her teeth as she closed her eyes tightly and held herself absolutely motionless with the head of my cock in her pussy. "God, it's like a log," she moaned. "It's so big and ... God, I don't see how you get it in Janie without tearing her apart, and I can't believe that you ass fucked her without killing her ..." She hissed through her teeth again then moaned wordlessly as she began moving slowly up and down with cautious motions, taking my cock into her pussy. I looked down at the beautiful woman fucking herself with my cock, at the thick, knotted shaft of my cock entering the channel which had given Janie life, and a swelling, triumphant exhilaration filled me, making the sensations racing through me almost unbearably intense. My hips began responding, and I began thrusting my cock up into her pussy as she lowered herself on it. Her face was twisted with the sensations my cock were generating in her as she leaned forward and put her hands on my chest, pressing herself down harder. My cock began sliding into her more rapidly, and she sat back as she took the entire length of it into her body.
She sat with her buttocks pressing against the top of my thighs as she twisted her hips from side to side, moving my cock around inside her pussy, and I contracted and released my muscular control to make my cock swell and twitch inside her. Her mouth opened wide and her eyes closed as she felt it throbbing inside her, and she whimpered softly as she began moving up and down on it. "Ooohhhhh, it's good, baby," she moaned. "It's so big and hot inside me ... feel my boobs, baby, feel them and squeeze them hard-"
I cupped her breasts in my hands and fondled them as she began moving up and down in long strokes, lifting herself until only the head of my cock was still in her pussy then pressing herself back down until her buttocks were resting on my thighs. Her movements became more rapid and uncontrolled as the sensations began to fully arouse her, and my hips began bouncing all the way off the bed as I drove myself up at her, spearing my cock into her eager body. Her legs began trembling from her efforts, and her breath came in short, quick gasps as she continued bouncing up and down, laboring to continue the cloying sensations which were gripping her. She finally collapsed on top of me, panting for breath. "I can't do it, baby," she whimpered. "I can't do it-get on top of me ... get on top and get off into me, baby ... I've had it, and my legs are tired ..."
I put my arms around her and held her to me as I rolled her over, keeping my cock in her pussy, then I cupped her buttocks and began fucking her with long, hard strokes. She spread her legs wide apart and held her feet up in the air as she began tossing her head from side to side. "Aaaaahhhhhh ... that's it, baby, that's it ... harder ... faster ... I'm going to get over, baby ... I'm going to ... I'm going ..." the sensations began dying away in her and she threw her arms wide apart as she went limp.
"Do it, darling, go ahead and finish it," she gasped in a trembling voice as I lay on top of her, panting for breath. "Janie will come in and catch us if we take too long, so go ahead and come in me-come in me and let me feel it inside me, baby."
I undulated my hips, stroking my cock in and out of her pussy, and she gasped with effort as she responded, working her hips and pressing her pussy up at me. She pressed her heels against the back of my thighs to brace herself, and she combed her fingers through my hair as she whispered to me, begging for my come. The sound of her trembling voice made the sensation much more acute, and I could feel the come knotting into a hard, swelling pressure within me as I fucked her. I slid my hands down her and cupped her buttocks, then I began fucking her with the entire length of my cock, pulling it almost all the way out and spearing it back into her avid body until my balls were pressing against her buttocks. Our lips met again, and she tightened her lips around my tongue as I moved my head up and down, fucking her in the mouth with my tongue in rhythm with my cock sliding into her pussy. She was acutely aware of the danger of Janie's coming in and catching us, and she twisted her hips from side to side and ran her fingers up and down my sides to stimulate me further so I would come quickly. I didn't want Janie to catch us, but I was also reluctant to conclude the cloying sensations which were flowing through me.
My come was suddenly a massive swelling within me, feeling as though it was bursting me apart as it battered at me. I ground my teeth together in my effort to contain it, then I felt my control being inexorably torn away from me. I pushed myself back up to my knees again and spread her thighs wide apart as I felt the hot, thick come rushing out through my cock, and she uttered a cry of relief as she felt the first spurt shoot into her. I threw my head back and pressed my lips together to stifle the outcry which was trying to burst from me, and I jammed my cock deep into her pussy to drive the come all the way in. The ecstatic sensations seized me, making every muscle in my body tense as the showers of fire burst inside my head, then I fell forward on top of her, drained and lifeless.
Her bare feet padded on the floor as she went to the bathroom, and I lay in a numb, drowsy haze, listening to the water running. A moment later the feel of the wet cloth on my cock and balls shocked me back to wakefulness, and I looked down at her. She had her dressing gown on again, and she was bending over the bed, tenderly sponging off my cock and balls. Her eyes met mine, and she smiled as she bent lower and took my cock in her mouth, rolling it around with her tongue. "Janie's lucky," she whispered, patting my cock and turning from the bed. "Get under the covers so she won't get suspicious."
I was roused back to wakefulness when the bed stirred and a warm, soft body was pressed against mine. "Hello, darling," Janie whispered, the scent of toothpaste strong on her breath. "Did you miss me?"
I nodded, sighing. "Yeah."
She stiffened slightly, radiating suspicion, and her small hand slowly crept down to my cock and balls. She cupped them and fingered them, then she took her hands away from them and sighed. "Who was it? Carol or mom?"
I yawned and turned onto my back. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about who was it you fucked. I know you fucked someone, I know you haven't been out of the house, and I know the only ones here were Carol and mom. Which one was it?"
"You're out of your goddamned mind, Janie. I'm just tired, that's all."
She moved away from me to the other side of the bed, turning her back to me. "Well, if you don't want to tell me, then you can shove it up your ass. They were both looking at you like the only thing they could think of was how much they'd like to gobble your cock, so I should whip both of them to make sure I get the right one." She sighed, hissing through her teeth with anger. "Well, it's for goddamned sure that you don't need me."
"I'll always need you, Janie."
She stiffened again and turned her head toward me in the darkness, thinking, then she sighed once more as she slid toward me. Her small hands touched my head, then one of her slender arms curled around my head as she tugged at her nightgown, pulling it down. One of her small, hard breasts was suddenly pressing against my lips, and I opened my mouth and began sucking it. She put her other arm around my head and cradled it, stroking my hair as I sucked her breast. "All right, darling, suck on it and go to sleep. You couldn't help it, could you, darling? You poor, fucked up bastard, how I love you. I'd die for you, darling, I really would, and I can't stay mad at you." One of my hands was resting on the curve where her hips swelled out from her waist, and I moved my hand down to her buttocks, fondling them. "Do you want to feel my butt, darling? Here." She tugged her nightgown up around her waist and put my hand on her buttocks, pressing it down, then she pulled my other hand down to the soft, thin hair between her thighs. "Here, darling, feel my puss, too. Feel me and suck my boobs while you go to sleep, and maybe in the morning you'll be horny for me. God, I love you so much, Jim."
Chapter 10
My mind swam back out of the dark cloud of sleep, and the warm, numbing sensation of awakened desire was racing through me. Janie was stroking and squeezing my throbbing hard cock, watching my face and waiting for me to wake, and her small face broke into a gamin smile as she looked into my eyes. She pushed one small leg against my thigh and tugged gently at my cock as she put her other leg over me, and I rolled between her legs as she guided my cock into her pussy.
It was a stony-hard, durable erection, and the long minutes passed by as I kept fucking her. She lay under me with her legs wide apart and her feet in the air as my cock slid in and out of her, murmuring softly to me as she stroked my hair, then when I pulled my cock out and tugged at her, she rolled over on her hands and knees to crouch in front of me. I dog-fucked her, looking down at her slender body waiting for my come and at my thick, swollen cock sliding in and out between her slender buttocks, and I finally exploded into a wrenching, shattering orgasm, gasping and twitching as I clutched her to me and shot my come into her.
Janie visited a couple more friends later in the day, and she returned with her small face downcast in disappointment. Nothing was the same, and she had come to the realization that the anticipation of returning somewhere is the anticipation of returning to a former time, which is impossible. The places are never the same, and there is no returning. We left during the middle of the afternoon.
We stopped in Sacramento for dinner, and while we were eating I leafed through a newspaper. There were sales at a number of women's clothing stores, and I turned the pages of the newspaper back and looked at them again after thinking about it for a moment. Janie was disappointed about the visit and still somewhat short with me because of her suspicion that I had fucked either her mother or sister, and she needed clothes. It took a little over a hundred dollars and two hours, but when we left Sacramento Janie was in a much better frame of mind and she had enough clothes to last her for an indefinite period of time considering that we wore swim suits most of the time.
We got into Ventura just before daylight, and the sun was just rising as we set up the awning next to the van on the road above the beach. The surf was running high with a good breaching break, and Janie and I ran a couple of sets while Loeffler fixed breakfast. Her slender, beautiful body seemed to be a natural part of the surf and the beach with the low, foliage covered dunes behind it, and desire swelled within me as I watched her running and playing in the surf with the golden rays of the sun making the water sparkle on her tanned skin. Her hair was pushed back from her face and hanging down her back in a thick, damp mass, and her eyes sparkled in her small face as her childish laughter echoed along the beach. She looked up at me and read the need in my eyes as we stood in the swash, she glanced from side to side along the beach which was deserted except for a couple of swooping gulls, then she walked to me and leaned against me, pulling the top of her bikini down to bare her breasts and guiding my hand down to her pussy. We went back to the van to eat when Loeffler stood and waved to us, then when he took his board and went to the beach we went into the van where she took her bikini off and lay on a blanket with her knees wide apart, smiling up at me as I tore at my swim suit to get it off.
Things were better for us on the beach, and there was never reason for arguments, misunderstandings, or disputes. We moved from place to place as the impulse of a moment stirred us, and we frequently remained in one place for longer and longer as the golden days and precious nights melted into one another. Janie became walnut brown from the sun, and her blue eyes shone large and bright against her tanned face and the yellow-brown streaks in her hair. Men turned to look at her when she walked along the beach and everyone stood and turned to look when the three of us rode the surf as a team, our boards planning high within inches of each other and our turns in perfect harmony.
Then jealous fate came to envy us our happiness. Death walked the beach in his ugliness, and the golden rays of the sun were blotted out in the shadow of his finger.
It was on a weekend, because there were others on the beach, families with their picnic baskets, lovers with their smiles for each other, lonely ones in search of companionship, and bored ones whiling away the hours. The surf was rolling in a triple break, and the wind was walling the shore-break into small mountains with a white, feathering curl at the top. It was a long wall and consistently heavy breakers without a rip current for a ride out, and we fought our way through the shore-break each time, struggling through the mountain of water and occasionally being tumbled back into the swash. The rides in were almost perfect, with the breakers melting easily along and walling up to give momentum and height to we could shoot the tunnel, but the fight to get back out was strenuous and tiring. It was worse on Janie because she was smaller and weaker, and Loeffler and I helped her the rest of the way when we were through the shore-break where our boards wouldn't hit and hurt her. Then after a half dozen sets she was so tired that she tried the shore-break undercurrent.
I saw what she was doing as she dived under, and I shouted for Loeffler as I turned loose of my board and let the rising breaker carry me back to the beach side of the shore-break. We dived and dived again, and my mind became dull and slow from my frantic search in the boiling green depths which kept spewing me back. In the distant corners of my mind there was a cold, hated voice that told me it was useless, that the mountainous shore-break could have an undercurrent which reached far out beyond the first breaker, but I kept on even after my limbs became leaden with fatigue. Then when I was lying on the beach and vomiting salt water, they brought her out. I summoned my energy to raise my head to look at her, then I dropped my head on my arms again. The cold, still form couldn't be Janie; Janie was still somewhere in the water, perhaps riding her board out of sight beyond the first breaker and smiling to herself in anticipation of my expression when she came surfing in.
The ambulance came and left, and people began leaving the beach because of the chill pall which had fallen over it. They glanced at me as I sat and looked out at the waves, and they looked at Loeffler as he sat behind me, watching me. Twice more I went to the water to dive and search, and each time Loeffler waited until I had exhausted myself to carry me out with the hot, choking salt water spewing from my stomach. The second time he carried me up to the road to the van.
I sat by the van with the blanket around my shoulders and looked out at the waves as the sun dies in a slowly fading bed of crimson. The police came and talked with Loeffler in quiet voices on the road, then they left again. When I got up and walked down to the beach, Loeffler followed me. He sat behind me and watched me as I looked out at the waves in the white moonlight, and when the sun rose again he was still watching me.
The pot broke the fetters and let my thoughts roam free, but my mind's feet still had mud on them. An indeterminate length of time passed as I tried to get enough in me to cast completely loose, but each trip had a beginning and an end, there was no flight so high that up and down could melt into one. Acid came closer, but it was a bad trip and shadows of horror were on the edges of my consciousness when I came back from facing myself in the dark loneliness between the stars, and I felt naked and revealed through the gaping rents in the veil between myself and my mind. Speed unbound me except for tiny tendrils of communication which saw Loeffler following me, keeping me from hurting others who ventured within the trajectory of my flight, and bodily carrying me away when danger was near. Then it began to roller coaster on me, and I had to shoot up to keep myself out of the black, threatening pits of depression which lay under me and stretched to infinity in all directions.
Then it was over. Harsh daylight was all around me, and my soul was shriveled to a tiny kernel within me as I lay bound on my side by the van. My body was a mass of pain, from the wrenching headache through the piercing agony in my stomach to the leaden aching in my limbs. Loeffler was sitting on the other side of a dead fire and watching me. There were raw cuts and dark bruises on his face, shoulders, and arms; we had fought. He looked at me for a moment longer, then he got up and raised me to a sitting position as he put a canteen to my mouth. The water trickled down my throat, cool and refreshing, then when it reached my searing hot stomach it began boiling and came back up. He held me to one side as I vomited it up, then he sat me up again and poured more of it into me. Presently it began to stay down. He put a couple of small pills on my tongue and washed them down with water, and a moment later a dark cloud of sleep began to fall over me. From a great distance away I could feel him untying the ropes.
When I woke we were in the desert. It stretched to the horizon in all directions in its arid lifelessness. The sun was setting and Loeffler was kneeling in front of the stove, cooking. He gave me some soup, and it was all right after it had burned in my stomach for a few minutes. Darkness fell and it became frigidly cold under the brilliant blanket of stars overhead. I lay in the mindless numbness between sleep and waking all night, then I got back out of the van to sit in the warm sun when daylight came again. We were there several days, and time lost its meaning for me as I lay in the van during darkness and sat by it during the day. Loeffler walked among the nearby low hills and brought back rocks which he carefully sorted and piled in the van, but we didn't talk about them or anything else. Once I watched a rattlesnake crawl by my foot, an animated needle which contained a fix for the ultimate trip, but enough life remained to cause fear for the unknown destination along a one way street.
When the shadow of withdrawal passed, a cold, steely calm settled over me, a stasis which was close to lifelessness. I had achieved control over my thoughts, and I kept them motionless because movement meant pain. The stifling, torrid days and frigid nights caused basic sensations, and combined with the necessity to eat they were sufficient. Then the time gradually came to a close, and we left. A thread of sorrow and melancholy almost developed in my mind as the van bumped along the dim track through the dried clumps of vegetation, but I clamped down on it and it disappeared.
It was dark when we got to the farm. Loeffler parked the van in the drive behind the truck, and I sat in the van while he went to the front door. A light came on in the house when he knocked, and I could hear the soft murmur of conversation. Even in the dim moonlight the farm looked different. The house and barn had been painted, there were rows of crops rather then weeds around the barn and beyond it, and the roadway beside the house had a thick layer of crushed rock on it instead of weeds.
He came back to the van for me. There was no one in sight as we went through the living room, and I noticed that the walls had been papered and the furniture looked better. We went into a bedroom, and the bed was warm from someone else's body when I got in it. The light flicked off, and he left. A few minutes later the door quietly opened and there was a soft sound of bare feet on the floor. The bed moved slightly, then there was a warm, naked body by me. Slender arms wrapped around my head, and a tender voice whispered, coaxing me to rest my head on the smooth firmness of naked breasts. It was Billy Jean. I almost recoiled, thinking of another time and place when my head had rested on the silky resilience of small, hard breasts, then the animal comfort claimed me. I buried my face in the firm, velvety flesh and put my arm around her waist, drawing the warmth and life of her body into mine, and deep sleep calmed me.
The quiet, cheerful sounds of the farm were around me when I woke, and Billy Jean was gone. I could hear the distant sound of the children playing, chickens were digging and clucking outside the window, birds were signing in the trees, a tractor was running somewhere, and a woman hummed tunelessly in the kitchen. I pushed the patchwork quilt back and sat up; the new wallpaper made the room look cheerful, and there was a peaceful calm in my mind, a feel of being at home after a long journey. A flash of color passed the open door, then it returned; it was Billy Jean in a fresh, crisp print dress. "Good morning, Jim. Just stay there and I'll get you some coffee."
I lay back on the pillow, looking up at the ceiling, and a moment later she came in carefully balancing a cup of coffee, darting smiling glances at me as she carried it to the night stand. "I filled it too full," she murmured, sliding it onto the night stand and sitting on the edge of the bed. She put her hand on my shoulder and smiled down at me. "Turn over, and I'll rub your back while it cools, darling."
I turned over, and her hands began moving over my back, cool and soothing. "You're thin, darling-you've really lost weight. I'll cook lots of good things for you to eat, and I'll soon get you fattened up, though. Lots of pork, gravy, potatoes, and biscuits, and you'll begin to look like you did before."
"Where's Kurt?"
"He went to town. He had to get some things done to the truck, and he had some rocks he could sell to a store that deals in rocks or something like that. I didn't really understand him-you know how he is about talking."
I nodded as I slid toward the edge of the bed, reaching for the coffee, and Billy Jean leaned forward to help me steady it as I picked it up. It tasted good; we had run out of coffee before we had gone into the desert, and the strong, penetrating taste was satisfying as the hot liquid tingled in my mouth and throat, sending strength back into my limbs. I put the cup back and slid back over on the bed, sighing and relaxing.
"Kurt told us what happened," she said quietly, rubbing my back again. "He said that ... well, that it had bothered you a lot and that you weren't yourself. You can stay with us, Jim, and we'll make you feel better. We love you here and we owe you a lot, and we'll ... we'll make you all right again."
The stinging behind my eyelids and in my nose was tears; I was almost crying. A stern, accusing voice in the back of my mind spoke, accusing me of maudlin self pity, and I swallowed, getting a grip on myself. "Yeah, OK, Billy Jean. I'll stick around here for a while and we'll see ..."
"You'll get better, darling-I know you will." She patted my shoulder as she stood. "Drink your coffee, Jim. I'll be back in a minute."
I sat up and pushed the pillow up behind myself as I reached for the cup again, and I slowly sipped it as I listened to her footsteps fading along the hall. She was gone for a moment, then she returned with the baby, smiling as she cradled him in her arms and carried him to the bed.
"Just look at you-aren't you a mess," she murmured lovingly to the baby as she sat down on the edge of the bed again. He had apparently been in the yard, because there was dirt on his chubby arms and face and grass stains on his diaper. He babbled good naturedly as he looked around, smiling, then he clutched at one of his feet and examined it gravely. I touched his hand, and he wrapped his hands around one of my fingers and tugged at it. He lost interest in my finger and began looking at his foot again, and I sipped the coffee, looking at him.
"He's got your eyes and hair, and I hope he's just like you when he grows up," Billy Jean said, smiling down at me quietly as she gathered him in her arms and walked toward the door. "Come on in the kitchen whenever you're ready, and I'll fix you some breakfast."
My razor and toothbrush were in the bathroom, and I shaved, cleaned up, and took a shower. The bathroom door quietly opened when I was in the shower, and when I came back out a pair of clean dungarees and a shirt were neatly folded on top of the tank and my dirty clothes were gone. I dressed and went in the kitchen, and Alma smiled timidly at me from the counter where she was mixing something in a bowl. The old woman greeted me with her usual homely courtesy then went to the door and called for Billy Jean. I made a heroic effort to consume the mound of food Billy Jean called my breakfast, but I finally gave up and left the house so stuffed that I could hardly breathe.
The old man was working on his tractor in the barn. We didn't have very much to talk about, he was afraid he'd say something he shouldn't, and conversation was awkward and stiff between us. The van pulled into the drive by the house as I left the barn. Kurt looked pleased when he saw me coming out of the barn, and he showed me the money he'd got for the rocks; it was enough to make it interesting, and I almost but not quite thought of hunting for more rocks when we needed money again. He went to the old man to help with the tractor, and Billy Jean talked me into sitting in a straight chair in the yard while she trimmed my hair.
I was tired again by the middle of the afternoon, and I went back to bed. The sheets had been changed and the room smelled fresh and clean, and there was a light, cool breeze coming through the open window. The small sounds of the farm drifted through the window and filtered through the closed door as I lay looking up at the ceiling, and they were soothing and comforting. Presently I slept.
It was late afternoon when I woke, and Alma was sitting in a chair by the bed, silently looking at me. The ruddy glow of the setting sun touched her brown hair, making a halo-like glow among the feathery short ends around the top of her head. She looked breathtakingly beautiful, like a young, slender goddess, and her neatly fitted print dress outlined her jutting breasts and the swelling curve of her hips. There was a hint of her thigh above the hem of her dress, and her lips looked soft and inviting. Her beauty tugged at me, but the impulse fell short, dying away before it blossomed to desire.
"If Billy Jean made you come in here, Alma, you can forget it. I know she whipped you before and made you come to me, but that was a long time ago."
She slowly turned her head and looked out the window, a slight smile curling her lips and a hint of a flush on her cheeks. "Billy Jean used to whip me, but she can't do it anymore," she murmured quietly. "We almost got into a fight a while ago because I told her I was coming in here and I wanted her to stay out, but she didn't fight me. She was afraid she'd lose."
"Why did you come in here?" I asked bluntly.
Her large blue eyes looked into mine, and I suddenly felt as though they were deep pools which were drawing me into them. She blinked, and the sensation disappeared. "I want something from you." She looked down at her dress and tugged at the skirt, then she looked back up at me. "And you owe me. You owe me from the time when we were in the picking camp and I let you do it to me, and you owe me from the other times here at the house when you did it to me. I want something from you, and you owe it to me. "What do you want?"
She slowly passed the tip of her pink tongue between her lips, making them glisten softly in the light of the setting sun, and her cheeks flushed darker as she sighed. "A baby. Uncle Bob and Aunt Clara think Billy Jean's so great because she had your baby, and she's always going around all the time and talking about it so big. Well, you did it to me just like you did it to her, except you didn't give me a baby. Now I want you to do it and give me a baby."
"I thought you were afraid of getting pregnant."
She stood up and walked to the door to slide a small night latch into place, then she walked back toward the bed, reaching behind herself to unfasten her dress. "That was before, and I changed my mind."
I struggled for a moment, then finally got it out. "I don't know if I can, Alma."
She unzipped the back of the dress and began shrugging out of it, pulling it down over her slender shoulders and arms. "You can."
"No, that's not what I mean. I might not even be able to-"
"I know what you mean, and I know that you can." She stepped out of the dress, and my breath caught in my throat as she turned sideward's to drop it across the chair. She was in bra and panties, and her body in profile was devastatingly beautiful. "You'll be able to, because I know what to do to get you that way," she continued, putting her hands behind herself to unfasten her bra.
I felt a quickening in my breath as she shrugged out of the bra and the firm, smooth crests of flesh were revealed. She pushed her panties down and stepped out of them, and my eyes became riveted on the triangle of soft hair between her curved thighs as she walked toward the bed. She pulled the covers back and sat on the edge of the bed, smiling at me, and a thrill of sensation raced through me as she cupped my cock and balls in her hand, fondling them. My hand slid down and touched her soft thigh, caressing it, and she leaned over and put one arm around my waist as she opened her mouth and slipped my cock between her lips. Every muscle in my body snapped to a quivering tension as she rolled my cock around in her mouth with her tongue, and she squeezed my balls gently as she sucked my cock. She let it slip back out of her mouth then took it between her fingers, peeling the foreskin back, then she took it in her mouth again and moved her head slowly up and down, caressing the shaft of my cock with her tongue as her mouth exerted a delicate, tantalizing pressure on it.
My cock began lengthening and stiffening, and I moved my hand further along her thigh to comb the soft bun of hair with my fingers. She moved around on the bed and spread her thighs apart for my hand, and I slipped my hand between her thighs, feeling her soft vulva with my fingers. My cock swelled until it was too large for her mouth, and she began moving her head up and down more rapidly, half of my cock disappearing between her beautiful lips and the head of it touching the back of her throat. She let it slide from her mouth again with a damp sound, and she stroked it with her hand as she kissed the head of it with her shining lips and smiled at me. "See?" she murmured. "It's all ready now-all ready to go in my pussy and make a baby inside me."
"Come here," I growled, sitting up and reaching for her, and she swarmed onto the bed toward me, her slender body melting against mine as she opened her mouth wide for my tongue.
I slid my tongue between her full lips and shining teeth to the back of her throat, and she wrapped both of her hands around my cock as she . spread her legs wide and wriggled to get under me. She closed her mouth on my tongue and sucked at it as I rolled over on top of her, and she braced her feet against the back of my thighs as she probed my cock into her vula and wriggled her hips from side to side to position her pussy for it. I put my hands on her firm breasts and felt them as I moved my lips down to her soft throat, burying my face in it, and she murmured softly as she worked to get my cock into her pussy. "... that way ... no, over a little ... aaaahhhhhhhh, that's ... no, back up ...now push, darling, push on it ...that's right ... that's-aaaaggggghhhhhh ..."
The swollen head of my cock slipped into her pussy, and the sensation made every nerve in my body tingle as she moaned and whimpered softly. I pressed and squeezed her breasts as I slowly undulated my hips, pressing my cock into her, and she responded with her hips as she kept both hands on the shaft of my cock, moving it with a small circular motion as it probed into her pussy. More of it began to slide into her, and she put one arm around my shoulders and kissed the side of my face as she moved her other hand up to my balls, squeezing and fondling them as my cock inched in and out of her. I slid my hands down to her firm buttocks and cupped them, feeling them and caressing them as I began pressing harder on my cock.
My passions had been sublimated by my sorrow during the long period of abstinence, and now they returned with renewed vigor as my cock slid deeper into her. The ecstatic sensation of her hot, tight pussy enveloping my cock seized me and lifted me to the blissful, exhilarating heights of sexual enjoyment, and I gripped her buttocks firmly as I drove my cock on into her with a few thrusting strokes. She uttered a wailing moan as the entire length of my throbbing cock entered her, and she threw her feet up in the air and spread her legs wide apart, holding her pussy open for me. "There, darling," she moaned in a quavering voice. "Go ahead and come in me any time you want to, darling ... come in me any time you want to-"
I was immersed in a warm sea of numbing sensual enjoyment as I lay on top of her and slid my cock in and out of her eager, alluring body, and the firm pressure of tight, damp pussy around my cock generated a cloying urge within me to turn myself loose and let the come boil out into her. At the same time there was the need to withhold it, to defer the orgasm for as long as possible so I could continue to savor the feeling. I pushed myself up to my knees and knelt between her thighs, looking down at my cock as it surged in and out of her small pussy, and I took her calves in my hands to hold her legs wide apart as I looked down at her. Her eyes were closed and her lips were moistly parted with her head thrown back, and her taut breasts moved resiliently from the thrusting of my body against hers. I could feel the tightening of her muscles in her calves as she thrust her hips up at me, gliding her pussy up on my cock as it slid into her, and the come began swelling within me, driving me toward an orgasm.
It was an inexorable pressure, steadily mounting as I continued fucking her. The need to continue the ecstatic sensations was so great that I couldn't stop in order to regain my control, and at the same time I kept trying to delay the climax until the last possible instant. Sweat stood out on my face from my effort to hold it back as I clenched myself, keeping it inside me, and it felt as though I were about to explode as I pounded my cock into her and looked down at her slender body on the bed in front of me.
She suddenly began wriggling her hips from side to side, and it was too much. There was a crack in the dam, then the entire structure collapsed and I shuddered from the battering impact of the peak of sensation as the come began erupting from me. She whimpered with joy as she felt it gushing into her, then her pleasure and the sensation of my come bathing her womb blasted her into a wrenching orgasm. We clutched each other and slammed our bodies together while we soared to the dizzying heights together, then the come was drained from me and I went limp.
Her moans died away and our heaving gasps for breath gradually calmed, and I still lay between her thighs with my cock in her pussy. She carefully slid her legs together under me, imprisoning my cock in her pussy, and she wrung the last drop of come from me with small, barely perceptible movements of her hips and flat stomach as she stroked my hair. "Go ahead and go to sleep on me, darling," she whispered, patting my head. "Go ahead and go to sleep, and you can do it again when you wake up if you want to."
I drifted off to sleep, and when I woke the moon was high in the sky, bathing the room with dim, blanched light through the open window. Alma was asleep, her young, beautiful face in repose and the covers pulled up to her chin. I slid my hand over to her, cupping one of her breasts, and her eyes flew open as she looked at me. The look of surprise faded and she smiled as she slid across the bed to me, wrapping her arms around my waist and pressing her naked body against mine. "Do you like me, Jim? I mean, do you like me an awful lot?"
"Yeah, Alma. I like you a lot."
"Do you like me enough to take me with you when you leave again? Do you like me enough to take me with you and let me live with you, and maybe even teach me to surf?"
It was still raw and sensitive, because it hadn't been long enough; her thin, childish voice still echoed in my mind during the lost hours of my nights, and the sunsets were still too much like those we'd watched together. It made the empty sense of loss return, the helpless reaching and groping for that which had slipped beyond my grasp. A dull, gnawing resentment rose within me then died again as I looked down at Alma's beautiful face, at the shadow of fear of rejection, at the tightly contained hope. In many respects she was a child who was still searching, and perhaps in her search she could point to a newer and deeper meaning, a key which would render order in the chaos. I nodded. "Yeah, you can come with us when we leave, Alma."
Her exclamation of joy was muffled as she pressed her face against my chest, squeezing her arms tighter around me, and I buried my face in her hair as I stroked the soft, velvety skin on her slender back.
